Salvation
by untied.shoelace
Summary: When the war was over, peace came at last. Hermione Granger thought she now could live a normal, quiet life. But a sudden, inexplicable incident started her plunge into a hell of madness only for her. Hope came from an unexpected source - could Fleur Delacour rescue Hermione from her demons? A Fleurmione story. Rated M for possible mature content/language.
1. Fallen

_**Hi everyone! Fleurmione is my all-time favourite ship. I just can't enough of it and at times wishing that JK Rowling would write a book specifically dedicated to Fleurmione. I've always wanted to write one Fleurmione fic to contribute to the fandom but never had the idea on what to write. A couple of nights back I felt compelled to write and just had this idea that made me feel like my brains were going to burst.**_

 _ **I've found my muse.**_

 _ **So here's my take on a Fleur/Hermione pairing, one that's been filling my mind constantly for the past few days. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it.**_

 _ **All comments and reviews are welcome.**_

 _ **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I'm writing this purely for personal enjoyment, not for profit.**_

* * *

Like most things, it started at the most unexpected time. There she was, enjoying her shepherd pie amongst her group of trusted friends, thinking that the age of peace had come at last. She was a proven fighter, a decorated warrior, a hardened soldier; yet the assault came, silently but surely, attacking her at her weakest spot. It was a crescendo of pain, of cruel whisperings and harsh words, of cold laughter and despaired cries. But the worst were the unknown screaming, faceless voices of the innocents who were begging, pleading, asking for mercy, asking for help. _Her_ help. She heard newborn babies crying to reach out to her, their mothers' wails desperate for her to end their suffering. She heard children begging her to tell them where their parents were, that they were hungry, tired, and cold. She heard things she never wanted to hear, yet was unable to see any of it happening.

Because it was all in her mind.

Hermione Granger, part of the Golden Trio, heroine of the Wizarding War, recipient of Order of Merlin First Class, most brilliant witch of her age, was broken.

When she awoke in St. Mungo's after fainting from the first assault, she was informed, gently, with her closest friends by her side to support her, that she was just stressed out. Over thinking things. She went home, unconvinced, but wisely kept her mouth shut. After all, the Healers might be right – the war did take a toll on everyone, herself not excepted.

But the assaults still came, thought infrequently and for a short time at first. Hermione would just pass it off as migraine, and concerned friends would come up with a list of things to combat it: a change of diet, different types of exercises, and even dragging her to countless hours of Quidditch matches (bless Harry, Ron, and Ginny for their stellar efforts) to the point she'd wish for the assault to come during those blasted matches just so that she could add a new magical medical disease – Quidditch Allergy. Alas, the stars were not on her side and thus Hermione still had to endure watching a game she barely understood.

As time went by, the assaults came at alarming frequency to the point Hermione got used to it and could stand an hour's worth of assaults before she started perspiring and showing signs of pain. She searched for clues but nobody and nothing could tell her (or perhaps they did not want to tell her, she thought darkly) what ailed her. Her health, aside from her bouts of 'migraine', seemed fine. She was not in a life-threatening condition. Her brains were still in great shape too.

Once, during Harry's twenty-first birthday party, the assault came. She was laughing and chatting with Ginny, Harry, Charlie, and Neville. When Hermione opened her eyes after a minute of closing them and endured a faceless maniacal laughter, her heart nearly dropped to the floor. The downside of being brave was having a hard time to conceal one's emotions, and Gryffindors were famed to be wearing their hearts on their sleeves. Hermione saw pity and concern in her friends' eyes. Not the kind of concern one would want from one's friends, but the kind of concern that said I-think-she-is-getting-insane-like-that-deranged-Bellatrix. This was not what she wanted.

She excused herself to the bathroom and, upon return, overheard her friends debating on the best way to persuade her to see a mind Healer (and take up permanent residence in St. Mungo's, more likely). Fear gripped her heart but Hermione steeled herself and rejoined the party with a relaxed face, as if nothing had happened. For the rest of the evening, she kept on visualizing how Draco Malfoy acted like nothing of importance was happening even when the situation was horrible. She bet Malfoy would die of glee and happiness if he was to ever know that.

A month later, Hermione had sold off her childhood home (she decided not to intrude upon her parents' life after the war but that's another story), resigned from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry, cancelled all her subscriptions, withdrew all her money from Gringgotts (the goblins seemed happy to see her leave – they still held a grudge), broke up with Ron, and moved away with the excuse of 'I need time and space to myself after the breakup'. Understandably, her friends were shocked but she had disappeared before any of them could stop her.

With the proceeds from the house, rewards from the Ministry for her part in the war, and savings from when she was working, Hermione bought a small lake in Wales and built a small house there. She erected all the magical barriers that she knew to ward off strangers, visitors, and the adventurous hikers. She took the idea from Grimmauld Place, making the place unplottable. The only way another person could set foot in the place was if Hermione herself physically brought the person. Writing the address on a piece of paper would not suffice.

She built a small jetty at the lake and constructed a rudimentary raft. Sometimes, when nothing else helped, she'd row the raft to the middle of the silent lake and lie there, staring at the brilliant blue sky until the pounding subsided. Had she known that a poorly-constructed raft in the middle of a small, deserted lake somewhere in Wales would do the trick, Hermione would not have done the things she did to numb the pain: various muggle and wizarding illegal substances, taking different lovers to bed nearly every night (fortunately she was not sharing a place with Ron, so he never knew), watching illegal sports (underground boxing, cock fighting), and even yoga. Wait, she did not mind the yoga – it helped her to keep fit.

The alarm's blares sounded throughout the property, pulling Hermione away from her thoughts. She groaned and swore. She chuckled immediately after, imagining the shocked faces of people if they heard her swear like a sailor. The Hermione that entered Hogwarts when she was eleven was not the Hermione that helped brought down Voldemort, saved the world, and being constantly barraged by faceless, unknown voices. The former Hermione strived to score perfect marks. The latter only wanted silence and peace, nothing more.

Hermione got to her feet and started rowing back to the jetty, cursing herself for leaving her wand in the house, next to the alarm clock itself, of all places. But her three hours ago self was adamant to row the raft without any magical means and did not want to be reminded of anything magical. The wizarding world destroyed her. Magic made her this way. She was unable to return to the muggle life without risking stalkers and admirers who'd be convinced that she was better off being a public figure in the wizarding world, playing a happy and smiling persona, preferably hitched to one of the war heroes as well. The lake was her safety, her refuge. Her personal hell where only she and her unknown demons existed.

Hermione secured the raft to the jetty and ran inside her house, grumbling about being deafened by the blasted alarm clock. She killed it and the lake was silent once more. Breathing a sigh of relief, she sat on the edge of her bed, contemplating whether she should keep her promise or returned to the middle of the lake where serenity beckoned. Staring at the moving hand of the clock, she decided it would be a waste to not wear the new dress she bought for this occasion.

A year after disappearing, Hermione knocked on the doors of Grimmauld Place, a chocolate cake in hand, nervously waiting. A surprised Ginny answered the door and jumped at her, squeezing her to death. The cake survived. So did Hermione. That night, Harry, Ginny, and Hermione had dinner at Grimmauld Place, chatting as if time never passed.

"So where have you been all these time? We're so worried about you – our owls kept on returning without managing to even reach you," Ginny looked slightly hurt. She refilled Hermione's glass of wine.

"I'm sorry about that, I didn't mean to worry any of you," Hermione replied gently, a cover story at the ready. "I was trying to figure out what it was I wanted in life. I mean, I just broke up with someone whom I thought I would be with forever, but when I realized I had no more feelings for him, it was… unreal. It was weird. Strange. Difficult. Suddenly I felt suffocated for no reason and I had the urge to get away somewhere quiet. So I stayed for a bit at this lovely beach in Spain and uh… before I continue, both of you must swear secrecy. The only reason why I appear now after a year is because I got the clearance to do so."

Harry and Ginny shared a glance.

"What's going on?" Ginny asked, a worried look in her eyes.

"You must swear it first," insisted Hermione.

"I swear it, because I trust you, 'Mione. You saved me countless times. So whatever it is you'll be telling me, I swear I won't tell anyone else," Harry said quietly. Hermione gave him a grateful smile.

"It's not that I don't trust you, but I'm just worried for you. But I swear to keep quiet and I also swear if anyone hurts you I'll hex them to oblivion."

Hermione gave Ginny a quick hug, glad to see the fiery protectiveness of the girl had not sizzled out.

"Well, to make a long story short, I'm working for a government as a secret agent," Hermione said in a low voice, causing both her friends to inched nearer. "I'm unable to tell you much, because I'm holding quite a high position and I'm involved in many high-profile cases. I've been busy doing… things. Official things. Which is why I haven't been able to visit and why none of you were able to reach me."

"Are you some sort of Unspeakable?" asked the redhead.

"Sort of, but a mixture of that and an Auror."

Harry smiled. "I can imagine how workaholic you're becoming."

"Hey! I'm just busy!" Hermione swatted Harry's arm.

They laughed. It was good to laugh together again. Especially when her mind was not assaulted. Throughout the night the laughed and chatted, happy to be together again. As Hermione took her leave, both her friends promised to keep quiet about her job and would support her if their other friends started to be nosy. Hermione felt only a tiny little bit of guilt for telling them such absurd lies but was convinced they did not need to know the truth. None of her friends deserved the truth. Hermione did not want to see that look in their eyes anymore.

Since then, Hermione dropped by at Grimmauld Place as irregularly as she could. She never mentioned about the rest of their friends, and they never brought up the subject. Somehow, both Ginny and Harry understood to just let Hermione do things at her own pace. Hermione admired Ginny's patience and self-control, not even pushing her to try and meet at least one other person. Or perhaps, both Ginny and Harry thought Hermione was lying low due to some extremely hush-hush mission. Considering Harry was an Auror, that was likely to be the case.

Six months after the first time Hermione dropped by unannounced, Ginny excitedly informed her that Harry proposed and they were going to get married soon after. The blushing groom found his cup of tea was highly interesting and fussed with it for a bit before Hermione gave him a long hug. She was happy for him. She was happy for the both of them. They had all been through so much pain, so much sadness, so much hardship. It was time for them to be happy.

 _Except for me_ , Hermione thought sadly. _I am too broken and cursed to have any happiness._

So there Hermione was, getting herself ready to go for Ginny's hen night. Half of her filled with dread – was it held at public venue? How many people would be there? Hermione had never asked, and Ginny had never told. All Ginny said was to be at Grimmauld Place latest by 7 p.m.

Hermione looked at herself in the mirror, scrutinizing every inch, wanting to make sure she would not look out of place. She bought a silver dress, modest yet revealing, and a pair of gorgeous heels to go with it. Her hair was tied in an elegant bun, the bushiness gone. For a moment, she wondered whether she was making a mistake – this was Ginny's hen night, and for all Hermione knew the Quidditch player might be dragging her to some sporty arena where she'd be forced to get on a broom and play sports. Ugh. But wait, the dress would be a perfect excuse on not getting on a broom.

Hermione grabbed her purse, stuffed her wand inside, and Apparated to the front door of Grimmauld Place. She grabbed on the knocker but hesitated. Her stomach knotted uneasily. Should she hightail it and send a letter of apology with a basket of fruit, using her job as an excuse? 'Sorry Gin but I had to do things that I can't even tell you because it's secret'. Understanding might the redhead be, but she had a temper.

While standing there, unsure on what to do, the door opened and Hermione nearly fell, her hand was still gripping the knocker. Harry caught her before she could kiss the floor.

"Easy there, 'Mione," he murmured gently.

"Harry, don't leave the door open, damn it! You're letting the wind in," Ginny's voice called out from the house. Moments later, the grumbling redhead appeared and she grinned seeing Hermione.

"You came!" Ginny hugged her best friend.

"I'm here," agreed Hermione.

"Alright, I better leave now. You girls have fun, okay? I'll see you tomorrow, love," Harry kissed his fiancée before hugging Hermione.

Both ladies watched him Disapparating with a 'pop'.

"He's going to his own stag party," Ginny was dragging Hermione inside, into the living room. There usually homey room changed – it now held tables of finger foods, wines, beers, and punch bowls. There were several chairs randomly scattered throughout the room.

"Uh…"

"Okay so I'm sorry I never tell you this but please don't get angry and pay attention," Ginny held Hermione's shoulders firmly, looking serious. For some reason, the redhead's black gown distracted Hermione and it took all of her energy to focus on Ginny's eyes. Hermione needed a drink.

"I invited several girls, my close friends. This is my third hen night, but this is the most special because it's a very private affair and only the girls that mean a lot to me are here tonight. So please, even if you do hate some of them, just ignore them, alright 'Mione?"

"Er can you explain?"

Ginny took a deep breath. She was nervous.

"Pansy is coming – we've become quite good friends. Lavender is coming – she's a pretty decent girl now and not lusting after Ron anymore. Luna, Hannah, the Patil twins, Angelina, Katie, Susan and several other girls you never had any beef with are coming as well so I'm sure you have people you can talk to. And oh, Fleur is coming too."

"Fleur?"

"I know it sounds absurd to you but Fleur's a pretty chill lady," Ginny laughed nervously. Hermione relaxed her face, not wanting to give Ginny the impression that she was hating this and wanted to run away (even though she badly wanted to hide). "Um, ok let me update you on things: Pansy bought the Holyhead Harpies and turns out she is actually a nice human being. Lavender is dating Neville, of all people, but they seem happy. Ron is dating Luna." Both Hermione's eyebrows rose at this. "Fleur and Bill divorced months ago because Bill wanted to become a monk or something to conquer his inner wolf and Fleur felt the love they shared had changed to something akin to close friendship. Mum's the only one pissed about it but at any rate, Fleur and I somehow managed to befriend each other so she's coming."

"How did Luna and Ron even happen?" Hermione was genuinely curious. That was something she would never expect.

Ginny shrug. "I don't know but Luna is Luna, so yeah. Are you alright with it?"

"Gin, I'm fine," Hermione gave her a reassuring smile. "If Pansy and Lavender can be civil toward me, I will be civil toward them."

Ginny hugged her.

"You're the best."

Despite herself, Hermione enjoyed the party (it felt like a gathering instead of a hen night). Not a single soul asked her where she had been all these time or what she was currently doing. Hermione silently thanked Ginny and Harry, for they must have warned their friends not to bother her with such questions. She felt a slight pang of guilt for lying to Harry and Ginny, but she swept that thought away. Hermione had a nagging feeling that the hen's night was Ginny's excuse to drag the brunette back into society but she had no proof.

To her surprise, Pansy and Lavender were polite – and friendly even – with her. Time really changed everything. Including her. Unfortunately, not for the better, but for the worse. Everyone around her seemed happy and content with the lives they were living. They had normal concerns that Hermione would kill for. Why was she the one having this…madness? She sacrificed so much, yet this was what she received? One of Hermione's theories was that Bellatrix' tortures had messed with her mind. Yet none of the Healers she went to found anything strange. Hermione had a normal, working mind, albeit slightly damaged due to what she had seen during the war.

The more she thought of it, the moodier she became. Hermione just had to get some air, just had to get away. She disappeared to the second floor and went to one of the balconies. The chilly breeze calmed her enough to prevent her from having anxiety attacks, but she was still tense. She chugged the wine bottle she snatched from one of the tables, and instantly felt heady. She was never strong with wine, and rarely allowed herself to drink so much since the assaults started, as the assaults were stronger when she was intoxicated or having hangover. But tonight, she cast all caution to the wind. She was bound to be assaulted sometime soon anyway, so why worry?

A hand pried the bottle from her grip firmly but gently.

"Hey give me back!" her words started to slur and she had to hold onto the railings for support.

She felt strong hands held her waist, steadying her. She felt indignant – Hermione fucking Granger was not a child anymore and she could drink herself to death whenever she wanted to, thank you! And no, she did not need any help whatsoever; she could stand on her own.

"You're always so fiery," a gently voice chuckled lightly.

Hermione felt slightly embarrassed – had she spoken out loud? She looked up and focused her eyes to see into Fleur's warm, deep blue ones.

"F..Fl…Fleur," the brunette stammered, all anger forgotten.

She had been avoiding the French throughout the whole night, for reasons she herself did not know. Every time Fleur had turned her gaze on Hermione, the brunette would panic and walked away to talk with the furthest person in the room, distancing herself from Fleur. Every time Fleur approached her, Hermione managed to slip away to another side of the room. The brunette knew her behaviour was inexcusable, but she did not even understand why she was doing what she did. All she knew was that her stomach turned to a knot whenever Fleur was on her radar and her first instinct was to flee. Honed by countless battles, Hermione allowed her body to take over whenever her instincts screamed at her to take flight.

But now they were alone, on a deserted floor, with Hermione stuck between the railings and Fleur. Not only that, the brunette's mind was impaired from the alcohol, making her unable to think clearly.

"So much sadness, so much pain," murmured Fleur. Hermione broke away eye contact at that.

"You're taller," Hermione blurted the first thought that came to mind. She could smack herself. The brightest witch of her age indeed.

"We've never stood close enough to measure our height differences."

Hermione felt Fleur inching closer, and for some reason the brunette's heart raced.

 _Oh my god, don't let her come nearer,_ she screamed internally. _Yes, come nearer_.

Hermione was confused. Did she or did she not want Fleur to be nearby? She felt Fleur's body against hers, no space in between, and allowed her chin to be tilted upward, making her look into those dancing blue eyes again.

"How tall do you think I am, Hermione?"

Hermione's palms were clammy. She gripped the railings harder. The combinations of alcohol, stress, morbid thoughts, and strange urge to run away from Fleur but at the same time stay there with Fleur made it difficult for Hermione to breathe properly.

"I…I…"

She tried to take a deep breath. She tried to control her breathing. She tried to count to ten and think of cute baby unicorns.

She failed.

The next moment, Fleur gathered her in her embrace, with one hand rubbing her back gently, rhythmically.

"Follow my breathing, Hermione, follow my breathing."

The voices started again. It was a male laughter this time, giggling gleefully while lecturing her on why shooting an arrow on a person's right knee is much better than the left. Without realizing, she gripped Fleur's dress and closed her eyes, begging the person to leave her alone tonight. She was half-aware of Fleur stroking her hair while repeatedly saying something that sounded soothing. Hermione wanted to tell Fleur that she was fine, that this was common, and that this will be over soon, so could Fleur please go away and leave her alone to deal with this madness because if not Fleur could get it too?

Hermione had no idea whether she successfully drove Fleur away because the brunette could feel she was slowly sinking into the darkness, the comfort and familiarity of the cold, lonely place.

* * *

There was a dull ache in her head, thumping like the rhythms of the drums. Hermione was relieved that the madman stopped lecturing her about arrows and knees. For the time being, her mind was quiet. But pounding.

Hermione groaned and slowly opened her eyes, swearing at the sun for being too bright. It took her forever to finally able to open her eyes without hurting, and she was shocked to see Fleur looking at her, concern in the blonde's eyes. Hermione looked around and did not recognize her surroundings. She was lying on a king-sized bed with extremely comfortable red duvet, surrounded by a sofa, three chairs, a small wooden table, various articles of clothing and random stuff scattered throughout, a kitchenette, and a slightly opened door that revealed a small bathroom.

Fleur closed whatever book she was reading and, in just one step, sat on the edge of the bed, placed a palm on Hermione's temple and asked gently, "How are you feeling?"

Hermione glanced around and then looked back at Fleur's concerned deep blue eyes. This was wrong. It felt so wrong. An immaculate person like Fleur had no business being in such a horribly messy place.

"Where…are we?"

"You're at my place. You fainted last night and nobody knew where you lived so I decided to bring you here. I didn't want to leave you at Harry's because the rest of the drunken ladies would be staying there and you looked like you needed your own space."

"Your…place? Here?"

Fleur nodded.

"But you're not…messy."

Fleur chuckled.

"I'm living the life of a single bachelorette, I think I can afford to be messy."

Fleur took a potion from the bedside table and offered it to Hermione.

"It helps with the headaches."

For a moment, Hermione froze, thinking that Fleur knew what was going on. But she relaxed herself, realizing that Fleur was referring to the hangover. Hermione allowed Fleur to help her drink the potion and lied back on the comfortable bed. Hermione felt herself getting lighter and slightly happy. She knew this feeling, she was glad to get reacquainted with this kind of sensation. It had been a long time since she took any drug, both legal and illegal, and she missed it a little. She allowed the sensations to envelope her and led her to some sleep, albeit filled with nightmares (well, what was she expecting?)

Hermione had no idea how long she slept but when she awoke, the sun was hanging low and her stomach rioting. Her eyes found Fleur's deep blue ones and the brunette wondered whether Fleur had been sitting across her all these while.

"I made some soup. Would you like some?"

The gentleness in Fleur's voice shook Hermione. The kind, accepting deep blue eyes frightened her. She wanted to cry. She needed to get out of here badly. She needed to breathe. She needed to eat the soup. No. Not that. She needed to leave. Immediately.

Hermione forced herself to sit and swung out of bed. Fleur rose quickly to help steady her, the second time in less than twenty four hours.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," the brunette mumbled, desperately trying to push Fleur away without being rude about it. "I need to go now. It's late. I'm late for work. See you around, Fleur. Bye."

Quick as lightning, Hermione grabbed her purse and wand, got out of the door and Disapparated to her lake before Fleur could react. Hermione blinked her tears away, rummaging her wardrobe. She got out of her dress, nearly tearing it apart, and put on an old tee and sweatpants. She ran to her raft and rowed to the middle of the lake, this time with her wand firmly in hand.


	2. Respite

_**Hi everyone! I'm sorry I'm unable to reply to the reviews because I can't even view them. Once they're view-able, I will respond.**_

 ** _So here's the second chapter. I apologise in advance for any grammatical mistake. I have no betas and I have reread several times but I most likely might have missed something._**

 ** _I hope you enjoy it._**

 ** _Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter._**

* * *

Hermione stared at the dark green vial containing think, bubbly orange liquid and downed its contents. It only took ten seconds for the potion to work. She felt herself starting to relax, her thoughts placid. One vial would last her two hours. She checked her purse, making sure there was at least another vial for emergency. She would be facing Ron, Mrs. Weasley, a million people, and Fleur and she needed her nerves to not be jumpy like a mad hedgehog trying to stab a watermelon. Why did she agree to be Ginny's maid of honour? Why did she say she would make her schedule free for that day? What on earth was she thinking?

With a final quick check to ensure her blue dress (she liked to call it Ginny's wedding uniform) was spotless and that the ridiculous wristband made of several small quaffles adorned her left wrist, Hermione took a deep breath before Disapparating to The Burrow.

The Burrow was still the same as she remembered it was a year ago. She felt the corner of her lips curled up slightly, memories of her past self spending many happy days at this place, surrounded by the people she loved and cared.

"There you are, Ginny's on the brink of throwing a fit because she thinks you decided to skip," the snide voice of Pansy jerked Hermione out of her reverie. Snide, but friendly. Pansy was not an asshole anymore, the brunette decided.

"I couldn't decide which heels to wear," Hermione said honestly. While she only owned five pairs of heels, it was more than enough to give her three hours' worth of dilemma.

Pansy looked down at Hermione's choice of footwear: a pair of dark brown modest three-inch heels.

"And this is the winner?"

"This is the most comfortable for me to wear for hours," Hermione defended herself. She felt herself blushing, embarrassed for not having a great sense of fashion, unlike Fleur. Now that, was a fashion goddess. Wait, how did this even turn to Fleur?

"Practical as always," Pansy rolled her eyes. She took Hermione's arm firmly and dragged her. "Now let's go before the bride goes berserk."

The bride in question was so happy to see Hermione making her appearance and the redhead jumped at her best friend, to the dismay of the rest of the women in the bride's tent.

"Young lady, I'll have you know that it took me weeks to get the design for your hair perfect," one agitated middle-aged woman forcefully broke the embrace and dragged Ginny back to the chair in the middle of the tent. At once, the other women returned to their duties of preparing the bride.

"I thought you forgot."

"I did promise you I will come, Gin. There's no way I'd miss this."

"I'll stick with her to make sure she doesn't slip away somehow, Gin," Pansy gave Hermione a lazy grin. "I have enough experience of preventing my Quidditch players from skipping training. Pretty sure I can handle one maid of honour."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at the grinning girl beside her. "Is that a challenge?"

"Hermione," warned Ginny.

"Fine, I'll be nice," grumbled the brunette.

Then the time came. Hermione gave Ginny a peck on the cheek as support. It felt so surreal. How long ago was that when Ginny was just a shy kid who could not even say a word whenever Harry was around? Now that same Ginny was a confident, beautiful woman, with the fires of life blazing in her eyes, having overcome multiple challenges where many others failed. Hermione smiled sadly at herself. What had she become? A raving lunatic plagued by voices she could not explain.

Hermione shook away her thoughts. Today was Ginny's special day, she told herself. Be there for her, be happy for her.

Hermione watched as one of her oldest friends, Harry Potter, draped in his best suit (but still sporting that untamable hair of his), quietly but confidently took Ginny's hand in his own. Hermione watched as they exchanged vows, exchanged rings. Hermione watched as the pronouncement was made, as the couple finally shared their first marital kiss. Hermione watched every single moment, happy for the both of them, yet sadness lurking, knowing she would never be able to feel that way. What was love, anyway? Once upon a time, Hermione was sure she knew what love was. Now, she realized she had no idea at all. She barely remembered the feeling of being loved by her parents. She did not quite understood how her best friends felt about her. Caring and compassionate, maybe. But love? That was such a complex concept.

Again, she shook her thoughts and refocused on the ceremony. Being the nearest, she got to be the first to congratulate the happy couple and gotten a big hug from the both of them. When Mrs. Weasley, flowing with tears of joy, approached, Hermione automatically took a few steps back, allowing the couple to be engulfed by her embrace. The rest of the Weasleys (including Ginny's numerous distant cousins) followed in Mrs. Weasley's footsteps. Hermione was certain both Mrs. Weasley and Ron saw her there (who could miss the maid of honour?). She was not surprised, although a bit sad, that they were both ignoring her. Were they still angry at her for leaving?

"I wish I can take away your sadness," a gentle voice startled Hermione.

The brunette spun around and instantly felt the now-familiar knot in her stomach. Anxiety was slowly bubbling. She had forgotten Fleur was there, that Fleur was one of the bridesmaids. Hermione was so focused on her own feelings and trying to be the perfect maid of honour for Ginny that she had forgotten Fleur's existence.

Hermione gulped. While wearing the same exact dress as Hermione, Fleur's hugged her body perfectly. The ridiculous quaffle wristband looked graceful on Fleur's beautiful wrist. Hermione stared at Fleur's long legs.

"Hermione? Are you alright?"

Hermione stared into Fleur's concerned eyes, surprised that the blonde was very close to her. The brunette took a few steps back automatically. This time there was no railing to trap her. She was free to take as many steps as she would like.

"What's wrong, Hermione? You don't look well."

Of course I am not well, she wanted to scream it. I have not been well for years. I don't know how it feels to enjoy sleep.

But Hermione said nothing.

She continued to take small steps backwards, as Fleur slowly approached her, with the same looked of concern, care, kindness, and acceptance in her deep blue eyes.

Those damn eyes.

Damn it all.

The laughter started again, this time accompanied by a sobbing old woman who was reciting some prayers, hoping the evil will end. Hermione closed her eyes briefly, gritting her teeth. Not now. Why must this happen now?

"Hermione?"

Hermione opened her eyes. She snapped. She had had enough.

"Stop it! Stop looking at me like that! Stop looking! Just… stop!" Hermione was barely aware that the crowd had fallen silent, that all eyes were now on her. "What is it with you and your concerns? I am fine. I am perfectly fine. So just…just stop. Don't give me that look. Don't look at me anymore!"

The laughter was louder, making some crude jokes about flying squirrels. Great. This was just great.

Hermione turned around and refocused all her energy on Disapparating back to the lake. She needed to get away from this; she needed silence; she needed the space.

With a loud 'pop', the maid of honour Disapparated from The Burrow and a moment later Apparated at her lake, greeted by heavy rain.

"I miss you too, home," she mumbled.

A loud thud behind her got her instincts kicked in. Hermione immediately rolled to the side, took out her wand, and pointed at the noise, various battle spells ready to be unleashed. But what she saw horrified her and got her running to the source of the noise.

"Oh my god, oh my god," Hermione kept on repeating to herself.

The unconscious figure of Fleur was lying on the wet ground, blood flowing freely from a long, deep gash that started from the blonde's left bottom jaw all the way to the tip of her left pinky. Fleur must've somehow grabbed Hermione while she was Disapparating, and got injured in the process. Fortunately, since Fleur was technically brought physically by Hermione herself, the injury was from a Disapparating accident. Which was good, for Hermione did not want to think how complicated it would be if Fleur received injuries from Hermione's own magical barriers.

Hermione got to her knees and cast spell after spell to stop the bleeding. She fished Dittany out of her bottomless purse and applied it on Fleur. She was frustrated that the Dittany refused to stay until she realised that the rain was interfering. Growling at the innocent sky, Hermione brought Fleur into her house and stared applying Dittany again. She methodically bandaged the unconscious woman's wound, checking Fleur to make sure that the blonde did not lose any body part. Fortunately, aside from the obvious wound, Fleur seemed to be okay.

When Fleur was bandaged, Hermione was unsure on what to do. Fleur was lying on the floor, soaking wet, her dress destroyed by the rain, blood, and mud. As much as Hermione was loathed to leave Fleur just like that to recover on the floor and unchanged, Hermione did not want to be the one to change the blonde. Hermione could also bring Fleur to St. Mungo's but the brunette was not willing to answer questions. She was also unwilling to bring another person to her house.

So Hermione did what she needed to do. She touched Fleur's skin, with the knot in her stomach going wild to the point she swore she was actually in need of making a huge dump. At the same time, she was fighting the blasted voices in her head. Hermione dried and changed Fleur, and gently laid the unconscious woman on Hermione's bed. The brunette then went to her bathroom, sat in the dry bath tub, shaking, and downed another three vials of the orange liquid. She passed out soon after that.

* * *

Sometimes she just wanted to end her life. It seemed easy – after all, how difficult was it to embark on a path with no way of returning and ending her misery when the alternative was a life of at least fifty more years (unless she died younger due to accident or incurable diseases) marred by something that nobody could explain and having no cure offered to her?

Hermione was at that point a few months before moving to the lake, thinking and planning to end her miserable existence. She was halfway through arranging her estates, trying to figure out the best way to will all of it to her parents without making them remember that they had a child. That would be too cruel for them: their only child erasing herself from their memories only for them to find out she was dead for nothing. She often wished she'd died during the Battle of Hogwarts. That way, she'd die a heroic death, never suffering from this…madness, and her parents would forever remember her in a positive light instead of being haunted by guilty thoughts of 'have I been a horrible parent?'

One of those evenings, Hermione went to one of London's underground boxing tournament. She had drunk a Polyjuice Potion and went as per usual as the local librarian who Hermione was certain would be spending the night at her own apartment, sleeping at exactly 9.30pm. She gave the correct password, paid the usual entrance fee, got herself some wine, and mingled with her acquaintances. Some were definitely shady, but many were just like her – people who wanted to escape from their lives.

While having a light banter of which fighter would win that night with some of her acquaintances, they mentioned of a place that promised better satisfaction. This other place held gladiator-like fights regularly, with combatants provided the typical gladiator weapons shown in movies: swords, daggers, spears, and trident. The fights were not to the death, but losers would have one part of their bodies (hair not included) cut off. Winners received large amounts of money and sometimes other items. The place was by-invitation only so Hermione expressed her interest to see this. Something about it excited her. One of her acquaintances, Rob (Hermione was certain it was not his real name), promised to vouch for her.

A couple of weeks later, Hermione found herself (still disguised as the local librarian) sitting next to Rob the accountant (or so he said), a bottle of beer in hand, mesmerized by the sight she saw. Two men in gladiator outfit, bleeding and bruised all over, were fighting each other. One had only an eye. The other had no three fingers at the right hand. According to Rob, the eyeless was one of the strongest gladiators and this was the third time the two combatants met each other, each past occasion saw the loss of two fingers for the other combatant.

To Hermione, who was in the depths of despair and hopelessness, found the sight comforting. Liberating, even. To her, despite losing a part of their bodies and sustaining injuries during the fight, both combatants still pushed through, still fighting with everything they had. She admired the man who had lost three fingers. He had lost twice against this opponent yet still he came to fight again. The promised riches must be really important to him, more important than his own body.

That night, Hermione decided to continue fighting. She would not give up yet, no matter how pointless all of it seemed to be. After all, one way or another, she would end up dead anyway, so why not fight for it and enjoy whatever peaceful moments she could get? She returned home, tore off the will she had been writing, and started looking for quiet properties.

* * *

The smell of bacon wafted through the air, making her mouth watered. Hermione stretched and yawned, feeling slightly refreshed after a night of never-ending nightmares. She could not even recall what she was dreaming about, to her frustration. Someone was setting the table and in the background, the kettle whistled.

 _Mom still won't use the electric kettle_ , Hermione thought to herself.

The next moment, she opened her eyes wide and sat up.

She jumped out of bed, her shin hitting the side table (she swore she'd make the table pay for that), and half-running half-limping to the kitchen. Part of her felt fearful, part of her full of hope.

Fleur was turning off the fire and carrying a plate full of pancakes to the table. She was humming happily, the tunes Hermione did not recognize. Fleur noticed the brunette's presence and looked up, smiling at the confused Hermione.

"Ah, you're finally up. Pancakes?"

Hermione, too confused to think clearly, allowed herself to be led to the table and sat. She slowly chewed her food, trying to rearrange her thoughts. What happened? Why was Fleur here? Where was her mother? Why was the sun shining so brightly? Was it not raining?

Rain.

Rain mixed with blood. Some mud. Ginny's wedding. Fleur unconscious.

Hermione put down her fork and stared at Fleur, who was observing the brunette eating with her warm, kind eyes. The blonde's blue eyes were dancing. Happy. Content.

"Get out," Hermione felt the familiar knot in her stomach, felt the familiar tightening of her chest, making it harder for her to breathe. "You're not supposed to be here."

Fleur tilted her hair to the side, her silvery hair looked brilliant being kissed by the gentle sunlight. Hermione stared at it.

"Do you have the tendency to kick out your housemate whenever you want to without clear and compelling reason?"

Hermione frowned. Was she losing her memory in addition to losing her mind? She could recall nothing of the sort.

"Housemate?"

"Yes, housemate. You know, the term one use to describe the people sharing the roof of one's house?"

Hermione was annoyed. She did not like the mischievous glint in Fleur's eyes.

"I do not recall allowing you to stay here with me." What was it with part of her being terrified of the prospect, and another being joyful at it?

"Well honey, if I remember distinctively, when I carried you to bed this morning," Hermione felt her cheeks reddened at this and looked away from Fleur's eyes, "you agreed to me moving here. I asked, and you grunted once. Grunting once to any question is the international signal for 'yes'. To conclude, you did agree to it."

Hermione felt her temper rising.

"I wasn't even aware of you asking me that question! If I was, I never would say no. So there! You can't stay."

Hermione crossed her arm, head raised high in challenge. Fleur calmly rose from her chair, took a few steps toward Hermione, and wrapped the brunette in her arms from behind. Fleur then rested her chin on Hermione's shoulder, smirking slightly when the brunette tensed up.

"Hermione," Fleur said as softly and as slowly as she could, "are you certain you'd like me to leave?"

Hermione wanted to say 'yes' and see the end of it but she hesitated. Would it be wise to turn Fleur away? Hermione had brought Fleur here, to her sanctuary (albeit accidentally) and the blonde could always drop by anytime, with or without Hermione's permission. While Hermione could make it unplottable again, it would take so much time and energy and frankly, she was too tired to have to go through it all again. Worse, Fleur could now send her letters, and what if she generously offers everyone else to send letters to Hermione via Fleur? That would be a nightmare. Also, there was just this inexplicable feeling, wanting Fleur to stay and accompany Hermione. Would having a kind person as housemate be that bad?

"You're messy," Hermione blurted out. Hermione could kick herself. What kind of excuse was that?

"I'm a messy bachelorette, not a messy housemate," Fleur purred.

Hermione decided. Her feeling about this matter was conflicted, and she was tired of getting so confused about everything.

"I won't force you to move out," Hermione said slowly, "because you'll do it yourself anyway." They all did. Sooner or later, Fleur's eyes would change to eyes filled with pity and fear.

"You won't know till you try," Hermione felt Fleur unwrapped her arms and walked to get the kettle.

"Are you going to get your stuff?"

Fleur set the cup of tea in front of Hermione. It smelled wonderful.

"I've done it early this morning. I'm all set."

Hermione looked around – she recognized some of Fleur's things already making themselves at home in her house.

"Including your bed?"

Fleur chuckled. "I left the big items at my place – we can always crash there whenever we're having a night out in London."

"Are you camping at my living room?"

"No, silly. I'm sleeping with you. Which side do you prefer: the left or the right?"

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. This could not be happening.

"Fleur," the brunette gritted her teeth, "that's my bed. You can't possibly sleep there. You're not my lover."

Fleur calmly stirred her teacup.

"I can be."

Hermione groaned.

"Fine. You take the bed. I'll be on the couch."

"Oh, is this our first lover's quarrel?"

Hermione had to suppress the sudden urge to strangle the innocent-looking blonde. The brunette did not say anything and walked off outside.

"A bouquet of roses, a pack of chocolates, and a kiss should be enough to make up with me, darling," Fleur called out from the kitchen.

Hermione slammed the door.

Her temple was throbbing and the familiar laughter returned. There were two persons laughing now – a male and a female. They were debating using garlic salt versus onion salt on open wounds and kept on laughing at nothing in particular.

"Who are you people?" Hermione asked in frustration. "What are you people?"

Of course, the voices ignored her. It was like a radio that you could not get rid off, following you wherever you were, turning on and off at its convenience.

Hermione boarded her raft and lied on it in the middle of the lake, gazing at the clouds in the sky, lazily making its way from one end of the earth to the other. Inside her mind, some children started crying.

She closed her eyes.

Let the insanity began.

* * *

Fleur was arguably a pleasant housemate, mostly letting Hermione did whatever the brunette wanted to do, and never asking questions that Hermione was dreading to face. Except that Fleur was always nearby wherever Hermione went. Fleur would sunbathe at the jetty and read a book while Hermione would camp on her raft. When Hermione slept at the couch, she'd find herself awake on her own bed the next morning, with Fleur would be already in the kitchen, cooking something. Hermione did not have the energy to talk about it, and Fleur never mention a thing. Fleur was generally a quiet housemate, with the occasional chat. But Fleur never asked Hermione anything private – it was always either about Hermione's opinion on ideologies, philosophies, current world trends, or Fleur's cooking.

Bit by bit, Hermione started to relax around Fleur, but the knot in her stomach and the urge to hide from the blonde never did fade away.

One morning, while taking a shower, the voices started again. But, instead of the usual random lectures accompanied by maniacal laughter and some crying, Hermione's mind was assaulted by a cacophony of all the voices that had been intruding her mind. Hermione stifled a scream, punching the wall with her bare hand. She barely felt the pain, barely registered the breaking of her skin.

Gripping her head, trying to see through her eyes that were being blinded by the pain, she rummaged through the cabinet and grabbed a vial of translucent pinkish liquid, swirled it once, and downed it.

Just as she expected, she felt her body kissing the floor, darkness slowly claiming her. Hermione smiled weakly, eyes not seeing anything. The chaos in her mind started to fade away, as did her consciousness.

* * *

Hermione knew that song.

 _Kumbaya my Lord, kumbaya_.

That was the song her father used to sing for her when the thunderstorms paid a visit and she could not sleep.

 _Kumbaya my Lord, kumbaya_.

That was the song she had to sing with the rest of her class as part of their Grade One presentation during a fete.

 _Kumbaya my Lord, kumbaya_.

That was the song that was sung at the campfire every year, when she had to go to the school camp because it was mandatory but she was so alone and friendless.

 _Oh Lord, kumbaya_.

But the person who was humming the tune right now hummed it gently, carefully. As if it was a masterpiece that demanded reverence. It was soothing, it was calming.

Hermione felt herself floating in the darkness, higher and higher until she could see a million stars, twinkling gently for her, enveloping her in their warmth. Below her, she could still feel the icy cold breeze of the darkness, with the familiar maniacal laughter echoing faintly. But above her, the stars beckoned, promising a moment of relief.

 _Someone's crying Lord, kumbaya_.

Hermione felt a tear dropped from her eye. She raised her left hand, trying to reach the stars.

 _Someone's crying Lord, kumbaya_.

Hermione felt herself being lifted higher, getting closer to the twinkling lights. By now, tears were flowing freely, as if she was trying to wet the earth below.

 _Someone's crying Lord, kumbaya_.

Hermione sobbed. She kept on floating higher and higher, and while the stars seemed to be getting nearer, they were still far, far away.

 _Oh Lord, kumbaya_.

"This is not fair!" she yelled at the skies, at the stars, at the heavenly bodies above. She only wanted a brief respite, but even that she was denied.

"Hermione!"

"Not fair!"

"Hermione!"

Hermione opened her eyes and looked straight into a set of deep blue eyes, filled with warmth, kindness, worry, and that blasted acceptance.

"Hermione, you're safe here with me," Fleur said gently, cupping the brunette's wet cheeks with her hands.

"It's not fair," Hermione repeated in a whisper, tears rolling.

Fleur said nothing and instead, gathered Hermione in her arms and started rocking their bodies, letting the brunette cry. Hermione did not know how long she cried or how loud was her wail, but she cried her years of frustration, despair, and pain.

"How's the weather like?" asked Hermione after a while.

Fleur did not answer. The next thing Hermione knew, she was being carried in Fleur's arms and they were walking outside.

"I can walk, Fleur."

Fleur just gave her a gentle smile. The blonde stepped onto the raft and they were slowly moving toward the middle of the lake.

"Non-verbal _and_ wandless spells?" Hermione was surprised.

"I've managed to impress you, it seems," Fleur's eyes were dancing.

Hermione blushed and took refuge in the crook of Fleur's neck.

Somehow, Fleur managed to keep the rudimentary raft afloat, with the both of them lying side by side on a mattress, covered with a blanket. Hermione wanted to protest for the sake of protesting, but was too tired to do so. She did not resist when Fleur rested Hermione's head on the blonde's chest.

Hermione stared at the skies above, with a million stars scattered throughout, twinkling gently, as if welcoming her. She closed her eyes, feeling exhausted. Fleur started humming softly, the tunes unfamiliar to Hermione. The brunette felt herself relaxing and she crossed one arm over the blonde.

"Don't leave," she whispered.

"I never intended to," replied Fleur.

For the first time in so long, Hermione slept peacefully. The voices were still there, but Fleur's humming kept them at bay.


	3. Conflicted

_**Hi everyone! Thank you so much for leaving such kind and encouraging reviews. I am touched that your responses have been positive. I'll do my best to not disappoint.**_

 _ **I hope you have a great weekend, and enjoy reading.**_

 _ **Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter.**_

* * *

The sound of the birds chirping happily woke Hermione. She was still tired, but she felt much better than in a long time. She opened her eyes and got her confirmation that last night was not some sort of weird, cruel dream that offered her a false hope. She watched a still-sleeping Fleur breathing rhythmically, the tempo hypnotizing. Hermione felt the familiar knot in her stomach and by now she had accepted it as part of her, much as the voices were.

For the first time, Hermione was able to closely observe Fleur. The blonde's cold icy features during the Triwizard were gone – Fleur now exuded an aura of elegance, warmth, and safety. The constant tensed look during the war was replaced by contentment. Hermione felt herself drawn to it all and had the sudden urge to read Fleur like a book, dissecting every piece of available information to convert them into knowledge.

Hermione inched nearer slowly, not wanting to wake Fleur. With barely any space between their noses, Fleur suddenly opened her eyes, causing Hermione to jump back in fright and nearly rolled over into the water. Fleur's quick reflexes caught the brunette just in time.

"I've got you," murmured the blonde, who wrapped her arms around Hermione, safe from the waters.

Hermione blushed. Her heart was pounding. She wished the water would swallow her whole so that Fleur would not see her face.

"Are you alright?"

Hermione looked anywhere but Fleur's eyes, which were inspecting the brunette with concern.

"I'm fine," Hermione stammered. She took a deep breath and repeated, calmer, "I'm fine."

Fleur gathered Hermione in her arms and stood, the raft slowly making its way to the jetty.

"Uh… Fleur?"

"You need to eat breakfast, Hermione," as if that was the most normal thing to do in the world after having a dramatical night.

Hermione had no idea what to say and truth be told, she liked this feeling of being safe and at peace in Fleur's arms, no matter how ridiculous it sounded. Besides, there was this issue of her feeling still rather weak.

They went inside the house and Fleur laid Hermione gently on the bed.

"I am not an invalid, Fleur; you don't have to treat me as if I'd break anytime."

Fleur covered Hermione with the blanket.

"I never meant to make you feel like one, Hermione," Fleur said gently. "But you're precious to me."

Predictably, Hermione blushed. What was it with the darned woman and her way with words?

"I won't be long," the blonde closed the room door.

Hermione stared at the ceiling, mindlessly counting the stray paint splashes. When she built the house, she was using magic except for the interior paint. She was determined to paint the interior by hand. That had taken her weeks to complete painting the small house, destroying quite a number of her old clothes. For her first house painting attempt she was quite happy with the results, although the inconsistent and random splashes all over the house made her cringe sometimes.

 _I think I'll repaint the house with light blue_ , she thought idly to herself. That project would help fill her time and take her mind off things. _Would Fleur be happy with the colour? Or would she prefer another?_

Hermione frowned.

Why would she care what Fleur thought of it? It was Hermione's house, not Fleur's. It was bad enough that the blonde shared her roof by deceit (Hermione still refused to admit that at the end of the day she allowed Fleur to stay) but to have Fleur have a say in how the house should look like? What next, building another room for Fleur? Hermione shuddered at the thought.

"A smile adorns your face better," Fleur opened the room door, carrying a tray with her.

"What did you make?" Hermione ignored Fleur's teasing. The brunette did not want to get involved in Fleur's weird games.

Hermione pushed herself up, sitting. Nausea hit her. Fleur immediately set the tray on the bedside table and rushed to help the brunette.

"It's alright, Hermione, take it easy," murmured the blonde, stacking up a couple of pillows and laying Hermione's head gently on them.

"I'm fine," Hermione protested weakly.

"You're finer than any I've ever seen," murmured Fleur, a twinkle in her eye.

Hermione looked away, blushing.

Fleur grabbed a chair and sat next to Hermione. The blonde took the bowl and stirred its contents.

"Weirdly enough, the only food that helps one feels better after taking Negubula is a simple oats," Fleur said conversationally.

Hermione stared at Fleur, eyes wide in fear. How did Fleur know the potion she took was a highly illegal substance, smuggled into the UK from Argentina, its purpose was to cause the taker to get high instantaneously for a long period of time, numbing one's pain and clarifying one's thoughts?

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Fleur looked at Hermione, surprised, then her eyes were filled with a gentle understanding.

"I'm not judging you, Hermione," Fleur shook her head. "I'm here for you. I know how irritating Negubula's aftereffects can be, rendering you very weak, unable to even sit without vomiting bucket loads of your guts, and unable to eat nearly anything because your stomach just will reject the food. I find that oats help a lot so I made you some."

Hermione looked at Fleur curiously. Had Fleur taken Negubula too?

"Alright, ready or not, here I come," Fleur said in a sing-song voice, mimicking the sound a train made while playfully inching the spoon slowly towards Hermione.

Despite herself, the brunette laughed.

* * *

"Fleur, why did you divorce Bill?"

They were lying about on the jetty, enjoying the warm kisses of the sun. Hermione's left foot was ankle-deep in the clear waters of the lake, her left hand tracing the waters lazily, creating small waves. The voices had not come for the day, which was always a good thing. Next to her Fleur was closing her eyes, hidden under her sunglasses.

"It was many things going on at once," the blonde answered slowly. She opened her eyes, gazing at the clouds, recalling memories. "At first it was the little random meaningless fights. Then it turned into full-scale arguments. Both of us didn't want to be at home longer than necessary. The only skin contact we had was when one of us passed the salt to the other. Before we knew it, he was getting drunk daily, and I was sampling potions. We were… well, sometimes I still don't understand what went wrong with us. Molly dropping a million hints and at times nagging for us to start producing babies did not help either. Neither Bill nor I felt we were whole enough to raise happy children."

Fleur turned her head and looked into Hermione's eyes. "One day we had a long talk and decided to try at it again. But after a while, we both realised that we don't love each other anymore, not in the same way when we decided to get married. He is my good friend, and I am his. Nothing more. He decided to set off for Tibet to meditate, and we felt that it was best for us to go our separate ways. Now that I think about it, I feel that we could've avoided the situation from escalating but maybe we could only delay the eventualities. A couple of months after the war was over he had set his heart on a life of solitude."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Hermione replied softly.

Fleur gave her a gentle smile. "At least we didn't insist on prolonging a miserable relationship. What about yourself? Why did you break up with Ronald?"

Hermione looked away, her heart thumping. How much truth could she afford to say? Would Fleur able to detect her lies?

"I had some…personal issues." She paused. "I needed some space, some place where I can think clearly without interruptions. That's why I left."

"I'm glad you've returned," Fleur said softly.

Hermione looked at Fleur who was now lying on her side, smiling at the brunette. Hermione felt her eyes strayed down and quickly forced herself to gaze upwards. There was a twinkle in Fleur's eyes. Hermione's face reddened and she looked away.

"I noticed that communication between our home," Hermione quickly looked at Fleur and gave the blonde a frown at 'our home', "and the outside world is pretty much non-existent. Not that I mind. But your friends are quite worried about you, especially Ginny and Harry. They haven't heard from you since you left the wedding quite abruptly."

"How would you know that they're worried if you can't communicate with them?"

Fleur chuckled. "I went out a few times, silly. How else do you think I managed to get a constant supply of fresh groceries? Wait, how did you get groceries?"

"Canned foods," Hermione mumbled, looking away from Fleur's concerned eyes.

"I met Ginny and Harry a couple of times and it's been two months since they last saw you. They're quite worried about you, Hermione. They asked me whether your work has been giving you problems."

Hermione exhaled quietly.

"And what did you tell them?" Hermione was afraid of the answer. Ginny and Harry would be angry at her lies.

"I told them that you're fine but just pretty much busy at the moment," Fleur said quietly.

Hermione turned her head sharply, surprised.

"I'm your housemate, Hermione, not a spy," the blonde gave her a gentle smile. "You're too precious to me to do that. Your life is your story to tell, not mine."

Hermione was relieved. She blushed from Fleur's words, but glad to know that her lies were not found out. Well, Fleur figured out she was lying but that was different.

"However, I believe it is time for you to make a visit, before Harry hassle Kingsley to send a team of Aurors to track you down. The last time I saw him he looked pretty agitated about not knowing your whereabouts."

Hermione groaned. She was not in the mood to socialize with anyone. Except Fleur maybe. Wait, when did she start to be comfortable in socializing with Fleur Delacour?

"While I prefer to let you to take things at your own pace, I have to nag at you for this," Fleur continued.

"Fine, I'll drop by at Grimmauld place soon," sighed Hermione.

"I was thinking today, actually."

Hermione looked at the blonde who had a serious expression on her face. Oh what the hell.

"No matter what I say this will end up in me doing whatever you want me to do, isn't it?"

Fleur leaned forward, her face dangerously close, winking at Hermione.

"Only if you want it," the blonde purred seductively.

Hermione blushed. She swiftly got up and marched into the house. Damn that blasted French woman with her weird teasing and disregard for personal space!

The brunette muttered and grumbled all the way through while changing her clothes and getting ready to go. She checked her purse and groaned when there were no more drugs hidden inside. She went to her library and rummaged the shelves. She found a couple purple-coloured vials and sniffed at them, satisfied that they were still usable. As she dropped the vials into her purse, she froze when she noticed Fleur was watching her, casually leaning against the door frame.

"Are you ready?"

Hermione just nodded, gripping her purse. But Fleur said nothing and led them out of the house. The blonde was holding a carry bag in one hand. She took Hermione's hand and they Disapparated.

The front door of Grimmauld Place had never seemed so intimidating to Hermione. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe she should run. She could always drop by another time anyway. Nobody would know a thing.

Except for Fleur gripping her hand firmly, rooting her to the spot. The blonde knocked on the door. Moments later, the door swung open, revealing a disheveled-looking Ginny still in her Quidditch attire. The redhead just returned from training, it seemed. Ginny's eyes lit up when she saw Hermione and embraced the brunette tightly.

"I…need…air…"

Ginny released her deathly grip on Hermione and dragged her inside. Fleur, still holding Hermione's hand, followed suit.

"Where have you been, woman? We were all so worried about you. Heck, Harry was ready to send an Auror squad to track you down. I was even contemplating on asking all my journalist contacts to write up about your sudden disappearance and spread it all over the country hoping that one soul will be able to tell us of your whereabouts."

Hermione had the horrifying mental image of the whole British Wizarding World looking at every nook and cranny for her, radio blasting about her every hour, and sniffer dogs released to the wilderness to find one clue. She shuddered. There'd be no way for her to roam around peacefully after that. She looked at Ginny, whose hands were on the hips, giving her a deathly glare.

"Um… I'm sorry?"

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"You're lucky Fleur here calmed us down before we create a shit storm. I personally think you should be chained to a basement somewhere so that we know you're always there."

"I believe that's where I come in," Fleur said seductively, her eyes holding a glint of mischief.

Hermione felt her face reddened and found the polished floor was very interesting. Ginny laughed.

"Well, at any rate, I must be off," Fleur said apologetically. She handed Ginny the carry bag, saying, "there's some strawberry shortcakes I baked this morning." Fleur then kissed Hermione's cheek lightly, murmuring, "I'll pick you at ten."

The blonde left, closing the door gently. Hermione felt her hand was empty and she had the sudden urge to go out, drag Fleur back in, and hold the blonde's hand again. The brunette shook her head at that thought. Why would she want to hold Fleur's hand?

Hermione followed Ginny into the living room and set herself comfortably on the sofa while waiting for the redhead to change into a set of clean clothes.

"You won't believe how annoying Pansy can be as a sports club owner," Ginny grumbled, reentering the living room, carrying two small plates. She handed one to Hermione. It was Fleur's strawberry shortcake. "That woman is tougher than the coach. She's cold and cruel, I tell you. Cold and cruel!"

"What did she do?" Hermione took a bite. Delicious as always. It never ceased to amaze her how brilliant Fleur was when it came to cooking. The blonde was the total opposite of Hermione, who cooked because she had to eat and not social enough to get take-aways.

"That dictator increased the training duration and intensity, and just now informed us she just hired two extra coaches. I thought I would die." Ginny closed her eyes and sighed in pleasure, enjoying the cake. "I tell you, Bill is such a fool to let that woman go. Oh well, his loss, your gain."

Hermione choked. "W-what do you mean?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, girly, don't be coy with me." The redhead leaned forward, eyes full of determination. Hermione groaned internally. Ginny was going to give her hell. "So tell me, was it good?"

"As you said yourself, the cake is delicious. And no missy, I know that bloody glint of yours. Nothing is happening between the two of us. So get your head out of the gutter."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Nothing? Not even that nauseatingly sweet lovey-dovey display just now?"

Hermione blushed and cursed Fleur internally. That damned woman.

"No, nothing happened," the brunette insisted. Why was Ginny so skeptical? "She's French, they kiss everybody all the time. Merlin, she's just my housemate, Gin!"

"An ordinary housemate?"

"Yes, an ordinary housemate."

Ginny bit her spoon, thinking. "So let me get this straight, pun not intended." Hermione shot her a glare. "Nobody knows where you live; nobody knows exactly the work you do, not even your best friends. Except that a certain gorgeous blonde French woman who is single and very much available, and is everybody's dream, who just happens to be living with you, the highly secretive war heroine who also happens to be very single, very much available, and very much desired by all of Britain?"

Hermione could feel her temper rising. "I don't know what you're getting at, Gin, but yes nothing is happening between us!"

"Alright, alright, there's no need to go mad over that." Ginny took another bite. "So is the sex good?"

Hermione glared at Ginny while trying to keep herself from blushing. "Excuse me?"

Ginny laughed. "Alright, I get it, let's leave it as another mystery of yours. I mean, I understand how you feel. Getting hounded by the press and being asked stupid questions about having sex with Harry is annoying."

Hermione groaned. "Whatever you say, Gin. Whatever you say."

Hermione loathed admitting Fleur was right. The brunette did miss this easy banter with her friends. Why was she hiding away all the time?

She spent the whole evening at Grimmauld Place, chatting and gossiping with Ginny. Harry had sent an owl just before dinner time, saying he would be home very late. They had dinner, just the two of them, and before they knew it there was a knock at the door. Hermione glanced at the clock. The clock struck at ten. How punctual.

"I envy you, 'Mione, I really do," Ginny said as she went to open the door. "Whenever Harry said he'll pick me at a certain time, he will be late at least by ten minutes. I should've waited till Fleur become available, shouldn't I?"

Hermione did not bother to dignify that with a reply. She slowly rose from her chair and grabbed her purse. As she neared the door, she overheard Ginny whispering rather loud to Fleur, "… I don't know how you did it, but congrats all the same! Even if you have to sex her up every day, but make sure she comes to visit here often."

Hermione groaned. Ginny would never let things go once an idea formed in her mind. Fortunately, Fleur only chuckled at that instead of replying with her usual weird humour that could blow Ginny's imaginations out of proportion.

"I hope you've had an enjoyable time, Hermione," Fleur greeted her and kissed the brunette's cheek.

Hermione pointedly ignored Ginny wiggling her eyebrows at the brunette.

"Have a _great_ night you too," the redhead's voice was full of mischief. Hermione would never live this down.

Fleur grabbed Hermione's hand gently and they both Disapparated back to the lake.

* * *

One afternoon, after a whole night of struggle trying to sleep wrestling with the voices that were suspiciously reminding of Hermione of a play depicting the burnings of witches, and only managing to fall asleep when Fleur, somehow sensing Hermione's distress, carried the brunette to the bed, cuddled her, and hummed for a long time, Hermione woke up to find herself alone on the bed, the house very still.

Still hazy from waking up, Hermione felt a slight panic creeping in and stumbled about the house, looking for the person she had gotten used to live together with for the past three months.

Hermione found her in the library, dusting the shelves and quietly humming to herself. The brunette had never felt so relieved. Without meaning to, a tear trickled down her cheek. Fleur must have noticed, for the blonde stood in front of her, cupping her cheeks in her gentle palms, and wiped the tear.

"I thought you left," Hermione said in a small voice. She felt childish and foolish. Why was she even panicking for?

"Leaving is not part of my plans," murmured Fleur, enveloping Hermione in her embrace.

The blonde let Hermione cried quietly for a bit. Hermione was angry at herself. Why was she crying? What made her so frightened? She concluded that she must have been affected by her dreams, where a boy that sounded like one of the regular voices that paid her visit begged his mother to never leave her. The mother left.

Fleur made her some tea and scones. With food in her stomach, Hermione felt slightly better. Fleur sat opposite her as per usual at the kitchen table, watching Hermione eat slowly with her dancing, gentle eyes that never failed to unnerve Hermione.

"Why do you not read books anymore?" Fleur asked quietly.

Hermione swallowed.

"The library is full of dust and for someone who loves books, I doubt you'll let them get in that state," the blonde continued, eyes concerned. There was not a slight hint of judgment there. Hermione looked away. "I've never seen you read a book since I live here."

What could Hermione say? What should she say? That she had lost her faith in books? That she felt betrayed by the pages that never failed to lend her their aid before? That she was afraid whenever she started to read a page she'd be obsessively desperate trying to find answers on why she's plagued by an incurable madness that had no name?

"I've been busy," Hermione mumbled. What other excuse could she give?

Fleur took her hand and massaged it gently. Hermione felt herself starting to relax. Damn Fleur and her instincts on knowing how to reduce Hermione's tension. The brunette blushed, her stomach flipped. The scones disagreed with her, it seemed.

Hermione looked into those pair of gentle blue eyes, eyes that held acceptance, eyes that exuded warmth. Eyes that made Hermione felt like blurting out everything that she had been keeping tightly inside. But she did not. She said nothing.

"Take your own time, I won't pry," Fleur kissed her inner wrist softly. Hermione gulped and snatched her hand away. Her heart was thumping wildly.

Fleur cleared the table and brought them to the sink. Despite her magical abilities, Fleur had the tendency to do things with her own hands, just like Hermione.

Hermione sunk her head in her hands, groaning internally. She was so conflicted and confused with everything. Nothing made sense anymore. Nearby, Fleur hummed quietly, washing the dishes. That calmed the brunette. Maybe she should do what she should have done long ago. Maybe it was time.

Or maybe not.


	4. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

_**Hi everyone, thank you so much for your kind reviews and encouragement. I am glad you are enjoying the story and I hope I won't disappoint.**_

 _ **So here's another chapter and have a great weekend ahead!**_

 _ **Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter**_

* * *

It was later that night, after dinner, that Hermione approached Fleur.

"Fleur, can I talk to you for a sec?" Hermione's expressionless face made the blonde stopped clearing the table and lightly caressed the brunette's cheek with her own.

"Sure, I won't be a moment."

Hermione wandered out of the house and sat on the jetty, letting her ankles played with the cool waters. The breeze teased her locks of hair gently. She sighed, gazing upwards at the sky. It was a rather cloudy evening, with the heavenly bodies hidden from view. Sleeping out here was tempting.

She heard Fleur's calm, measured footsteps softly approaching. Moments later, a throw covered her, instantly warming her.

"Thanks Fleur," Hermione pulled the throw tighter, savouring the blonde's distinctive smell. She frowned. Why was she sniffing at the throw like some lovesick teenager? The thought of it made her ill. She shook her head.

Fleur sat beside her, dipping her ankles into the lake, just like Hermione. The blonde was wearing a jacket. Hermione felt a slight disappointment. She thought they both could share the throw together. She frowned again and sighed. Ginny's words had done nothing but made her think of weird things that further confused her.

"Why are you sighing, Hermione?" Deep blue eyes stared at Hermione with gentleness and concern. There was something else within those eyes but Hermione could not figure it out.

Hermione took a deep breath and strengthened her resolve. It was now or never.

"You said you will never leave."

"It's never my intention, no, and it's not in my plans." Fleur gave her a curious look.

"Prove it."

"Well, I am still here, aren't I?"

"No, I mean, I want you to prove it after you hear this little story of mine."

Hermione was nervous. Her hands shook a little. Fleur, noticing this, took Hermione's hand and enveloped it in her warm one.

"I'm listening," the blonde said softly.

There was no backing out now. It was now or never and Hermione was tired of all her confusion, of all her uncertainty, of all her fears.

"A few months after the war was over, something happened," she began, eyes gazing at nothing in particular in the distance. "One moment, I was having fun with friends. The next minute, I was screaming in pain, my mind assaulted by a cacophony of voices. There was laughter; crying; screams of pain; shouts of joy; and even monotonous lecturing of things I don't even understand."

Fleur said nothing, still holding her hand tightly.

"I tried to search for answers, to figure out what's going on," the brunette continued. "I even joined the Ministry to get access to documents and people that would be nearly impossible for me to reach otherwise. Muggle medicine decides I am insane. The magical world thinks I'm either cursed, possessed, or insane as well. But my mind and body are sound; I am healthy and fit as one could be. While I have trauma from the war, my mind is intact. I am not possessed – I did check with the Department of Mysteries. They're mystified by this mysterious…illness, for lack of a better word. They too, think I'm crazy."

"So I faked it all. I took a week off from work and when I returned, I told everyone I was just under a load of stress. I was just having migraines. I was afraid they'd put me in St. Mungo's permanently, afraid that I was becoming like Neville's parents." Hermione closed her eyes, remembering. "People only see what they want to see. Nobody realised I was actually suffering inside. I wanted help. I _needed_ help. But how could I get help when I couldn't figure out what's wrong with me? Even now, I still have no idea, Fleur."

Fleur did not say anything, letting Hermione collect her thoughts.

"The voices come randomly. Sometimes they're just a bunch of annoying noises; at other times they're just like a radio that plays a drama, as if you're there witnessing an event but unable to see anything because it's just so dark. I don't even know any of them, but I can tell you why they're miserable: a small girl, sounded around five, walking around asking to see her grandmother and complained that her arm just won't attach back; an old man, begging for the landlord to let him see his dying wife who'd been caught stealing a loaf of bread from the castle and she died because the landlord kept on beating her with a brick; a young woman, gleefully telling her own younger sister that the latter's fiancée was being buried alive for not choosing the older sibling; three men wailing because…"

Hermione started to sob and Fleur gathered the brunette in her arms, giving Hermione warmth and comfort.

"…because they're the last of their race and were castrated to serve some cruel emperor. I can't see them, Fleur. I can't talk to them. I can't help them. But they're always there and I'll always have this feeling that I am guilty, accused of not doing anything to help. How can I help them when I don't even know what the hell is going on?"

Fleur rocked them both and let Hermione screamed out her anguish.

"And the laughter, that insane laughter just won't stop! I don't know what's so funny but they just won't stop laughing! They laugh about everything: murder, causing pain, left door being bigger than the right, extremely yellow daffodils… I don't understand them. I don't understand any of this. I'm not crazy, Fleur, I'm not. I can still think clearly, I still have my mind intact. The voices do not interact with me at all. They're just… like a broken radio which I have no control of. But it hurts my head so much. I am not crazy, yet I _am_. Why won't it stop? Why can't I be happy? What mistakes have I done? I helped save the world, yet the world won't lift a finger to save me. Why, Fleur, why?"

Fleur held her as she cried her heart out. It was a relief that Hermione could finally tell someone about it. The brunette felt like a weight had been lifted from her chest. But still, she feared. She was afraid.

Gathering up the Gryffindor courage that she had left, Hermione extracted herself from Fleur's arms and gazed up, looking into the blonde's deep blue eyes. Those eyes were filled with nothing but kindness, gentleness, acceptance, and warmth. Hermione shuddered involuntarily.

"Why won't you leave?" she asked in a small voice, confused. Her heart was searing in pain, but at the same time was shouting for joy. Fleur's eyes did not change their expression. "Why are you still here?" She begged for understanding, but not wanting to know the answer.

Fleur brushed a strand of hair from Hermione's face and tucked the offending hair behind the brunette's ear.

"You're precious to me," Fleur said gently. "I have no intention to leave."

It felt like time stopped for Hermione as she was barraged with a thousand emotions swirling through her heart. Relief, joyful, sadness, fright, panic. Without wanting to, without planning to, Hermione lifted her hand, reached out to Fleur, and brought her lips to the blonde's. A million stars exploded as she savoured the sweet taste, inhaled the warm aroma, and explored the beauty that was Fleur. Hermione was brought to a dizzying height. Fleur held onto her waist gently, steadying them both, making sure neither would fall into the waters.

When Fleur murmured her name, Hermione opened her eyes in shock, horrified. She pushed herself away from the blonde who looked confused and jumped to her feet.

"I'm sorry Fleur, I'm sorry," she felt herself panicking. "Just forget it. Sorry."

Hermione ignored Fleur calling her and ran into the house, slammed the door. Her first instinct was to hide on her bed under the covers but when she remembered Fleur was sleeping there, she halted. The brunette hid herself under several layers of blanket, curled on the couch, back toward the door. She did not move when Fleur stood nearby, and did not respond when the blonde bid her a soft goodnight.

It was a long time before she could fall asleep, and for the first time in months, Fleur did not move her to the bed.

* * *

If there was one thing Hermione Granger absolutely hated was uncertainty. Uncertainty clouded one's mind, making one prone to make mistakes.

Hermione Granger did not do mistakes.

From a young age, she made sure she committed the rules and regulations of her immediate environment to her heart and mind. When one did not break rules, one would not make mistakes, so she concluded. She tried her best to play it safe and stick to the rules, despite her numerous adventures with Harry and Ron involving breaking nearly every single rule Hogwarts laid out.

Unfortunately, there were no rules rigid enough to be set in stone when it came to feelings.

Hermione prided herself as a highly logical creature. While not devoid of feelings, she rarely allowed her emotions to take control. Time and time again, her logical nature played a key part in saving the Golden Trio from multiple near-death situations. Due to this, she did not put much trust on feelings and emotions, and often suffered from confusions, unable to dissect her feelings.

Hermione spent the whole night struggling with herself, trying to understand her feelings, understand her actions. She tossed and turned; adjusted her pillows more frequently than Lavender changed her outfit. She was mortified that she had kissed her friend and thought it was the same reason as when she and Ron kissed in the Chamber of Secret: a blend of tension and relief. It never dawned on her that it could signify something more. Feelings, after all, were not her strongest suit.

Hermione was convinced that the kiss was accidental – it was pure adrenaline rush of some sort. But try as she might, she could not shake away the thoughts of Fleur. Hermione had tasted the blonde, and she wanted more. All night long she struggled not to jump and run to where Fleur were. It was torture. She had never felt this way before. Nobody had made her feel so confused, so conflicted, so blissfully happy, and so panicked.

It was madness. As if the voices were not enough.

Hermione managed to fall asleep just before the sun rose on its horizon. But just as she started to dream, she was rudely awakened by her own self. Her stomach felt as if it was being twisted upside down. She was nervous and scared.

Hermione opened her eyes and heard Fleur in the kitchen. A small smile formed on the brunette's face without her realizing. Then she frowned, remembering what happened. She groaned into her pillows, not wanting to face Fleur. She'd rather die first.

 _Come on Hermione, Fleur's not that bad. She won't hate you just because of a small kiss,_ she reasoned with herself. _She's still here, hasn't left. Surely she'll understand that it was all a mistake._

Hermione frowned again. She was on the couch, not on her bed. A pang of disappointment overcame her for a moment.

"Own up to your mistakes," she told herself. "The world will not end."

Hermione dragged herself to the kitchen, hesitating at the door. A tired-looking Fleur was stirring the pot, lost in thoughts. Without needing to ask, Hermione knew it was her fault. Unsure what to do, she cleared her throat. Fleur looked up, rather startled. For a brief moment, there was an emotion in those deep blue eyes of hers that made Hermione shivered involuntarily. But before the brunette could figure it out, Fleur's eyes reverted to their usual warmth and gentleness, with a tinge of sadness.

"Hungry?"

Hermione nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She wanted to apologise, to make amends. But part of her was angry at herself for even considering to apologise. But she had made a mistake – why should she not apologise?

 _Because, unlike shooting arrows at people's knees, shooting arrows at people's hearts do kill them_ , a cold, cruel voice in her head whispered.

Hermione was startled. She was frightened.

Fleur, noticing this, approached the pale girl, concern and worry in her eyes.

"Are you alright?" the blonde asked, touching Hermione's forehead lightly with the back of her hand.

"He talked," Hermione gripped Fleur's shoulders, despaired. "He talked to me, Fleur. _To me_. They never talked before. None of them ever talked to me before. But he talked!"

"It's alright, it's alright, I'm here with you," Fleur said soothingly. "What did he say?"

"He said that it's better if…" Hermione's voice trailed. She nearly blurted out what she was thinking, what she was feeling. She took a deep breath, steadying her voice. "It doesn't really matter. But he talked to me, Fleur."

Fleur was quiet for a moment. Hermione's heart fell. She tried to keep her breathing steady, not daring to look into Fleur's eyes.

 _Fleur must be trying to figure out a way to leave as gently as she can_ , the brunette thought to herself, resigned. _I knew this will happen_.

The cold, cruel voice snickered. Hermione growled, telling him to shut up. Tears were silently forming in her eyes, threatening to fall. Almost predictably, a choir of terrible harmony sang a chorus of laughter and wailing. Fleur held Hermione tightly in her arms, preventing the brunette from escaping and running away.

The blonde hummed _Twinkle Twinkle Little Star_ , refusing to let Hermione push her away. Slowly, the pain subsided, like a dull ache after over sleeping.

"Hermione, I do not want to give you false hopes, but I believe a friend of mine can figure out what's happening to you and may have the knowledge on how to deal with it," Fleur said softly.

Hermione dared herself to look up, into Fleur's eyes. Again, they held no judgment, no indication of walking out. The blonde wiped the tear-stained cheeks.

"Do you trust me enough, Hermione?"

Hermione swallowed. Why did she feel so weak whenever she gazed into those eyes? She wanted to feel those lips again. Hermione looked away, taking a deep breath.

"Yes, Fleur," she responded softly. It was illogical but Hermione _did_ trust Fleur enough with whatever Fleur had in mind. The brunette felt she was safe and need not to worry about the details.

"Alright. Let's get you ready. Visiting hours are opening soon," Fleur gently pulled Hermione to the room.

It was when the brunette combed her hair that she realized she knew nothing about what was going on. She felt a slight panic.

"Uh… Fleur? Where are we going?"

"Visiting a friend of mine," came the reply from the bathroom.

That was not reassuring. Hermione wanted to tell Fleur that she changed her mind and would prefer to stay at home but just as she opened her mouth to say that, the blonde exited the bathroom, wearing all leather. The words flew from both Hermione's brains and mouth.

"Are you ready?"

Hermione just nodded, as if in a daze. Fortunately, Fleur did not notice this. The blonde led her outside and took her hand to Disapparate. Hermione's stomach flipped at the touch.

 _Behave_ , the brunette scolded herself. _You're just starving for affection_.

Nevertheless, part of her was glad to have that contact.

"You've got to be kidding me."

They were standing in front of a large, white building. It was surrounded by hills, with the sun shining brightly through the cloudless sky. The building was fenced by wires, with visible check points scattered around. Written large at the entrance were the words 'St. Michael Wellness Space'.

"Fleur, I am not stupid. I've read about this place. Do you think you can deceive me?"

Fleur gripped Hermione's arm tightly, preventing the brunette from escaping.

"Hermione, I'm sorry about this. I believe you when you say you're not crazy. Really. It's just that unfortunately my friend is stuck here. It's just a coincidence, nothing more."

Hermione was seething and hurt. She felt betrayed. Of all places, Fleur brought her to St. Michael Wellness Space, a little-known place home to the world's richest and most elite insane wizards. Purebloods who did not want their shameful secrets to be out in the open would send their certifiably insane family members to this place, with the occasional poor souls who were carted off there just because they defied their family's values. Hermione came across St. Michael's in one of her readings when she was searching for clues regarding her 'illness'.

At the end of the day, Fleur was the same like everyone else: they thought Hermione was losing her mind.

"Why is your friend here? Oh, don't tell me – your 'friend' is a Healer." Hermione could not keep the bitterness out of her voice.

Fleur shook her head.

"No, he's an…. 'inmate'," the blonde said softly. "But trust me, he is as sane as you and I. It's just that circumstances placed him here."

Hermione looked into Fleur's eyes and saw honesty.

"I promise you I will not let you be hurt," Fleur said sincerely. "I will make sure you will leave the place with me later. I am not leaving you."

"Alright," the brunette said slowly. "I'll go along with whatever your plan is, Fleur. I'll hold onto your words."

Fleur squeezed Hermione's hand in thanks.

They approached the entrance and were met with a formidable security. When Hermione was asked to leave her wand, she hesitated. Fleur gave her an encouraging nod and the brunette took a deep breath, taking a chance. Hermione hoped her trust would not be betrayed.

Fleur whispered something to one of the guards who seemed to know the blonde and they were led along the labyrinth-like corridors and stopped in front of a large white door with the name of "A. Martin". Hermione was nervous. Fleur held her hand and they both stepped inside.

The room's sole occupant was sitting in the corner, clothed in a straitjacket. He seemed to be fast asleep. There was nothing else in the room, not even furniture. Fleur nodded to the guard who left. The door was closed and locked from the outside.

"I can cast wandless magic, Hermione. Don't worry," Fleur murmured into Hermione's ear.

Fleur approached the sleeping man and knelt beside him. Hermione followed suit, keeping a distance. She was wary. Fleur murmured the Muffliato charm and beckoned Hermione to come nearer.

"I trust this is important enough to bring a stranger here?" the man opened his eyes, displeasure evident in his voice.

"Armand, this is Hermione. Hermione, this is Armand Martin, one of my oldest friends," Fleur sat on the floor, making herself comfortable. "I'm sorry to spring this on the both of you without warning, but it's not as if I've planned this anyway."

Armand studied Hermione with his piercing dark grey eyes. His eyes were clear as day, mind unclouded.

"Why are you wearing a straitjacket?" Hermione blurted out her question.

Armand and Fleur exchanged a glance.

"As I said, this visit is unplanned," the blonde shrugged.

"Well, considering Fleur herself brought you here, I doubt you will do any harm," Armand shifted and stretched his neck. "I hate to retell this story so I'll just keep it short. Years ago, when I was young and foolish, I befriended a wonderful person who later one became my boyfriend. He's a muggle. He did not know I'm a wizard. My family found out and at first they tried to separate us. Even Obliviated him at one point. But I never gave up. When he lost his memories, I stood by his side. He fell in love with me all over again. It was as if fate liked us together. But I was careless and my family found out again. My father killed him and to cut a long story short, I killed my father. Unfortunately for them, if I went for a trial and get jailed, the family name will be shamed forever. So they claimed I was insane and accidentally killed my father when we were dining at home. As ridiculous as the story is, here I am."

"Can't you get out? Fleur, you're able to cast magic wandless. Can we help him escape?" Hermione was reminded of her adventures with Harry to free Buckbeak from a certain death.

Armand gave a throaty laugh.

"I am thankful for your concerns but no, let me be here," he gave Hermione a wry smile. "I am safer in here than out there. Patricide is not tolerated in my family. I'd be dead in an instant if I were to step out of here. Besides, I'm also a wanted man."

"You hate talking yet you want people to have more questions," grumbled Fleur. She turned to Hermione and said, "his family's involved in the dark arts for centuries. Since he killed his father, the inheritance falls to him. Naturally, his father's other wives and sons disagree. So Armand's mother never bothers to free him."

"That bitch is enjoying all the money," he muttered darkly.

Ah. Money. Inheritance. That was less complicated than Hermione thought.

"Anyway, I believe you're here not for a simple social visit. Oh wait – while I am happy for you both, I'm unable to attend your wedding."

Hermione felt her cheeks reddened. There was a flash of hurt in Fleur's eyes. Hermione looked away. Armand looked at them both with eyebrows raised.

"And I have just said the wrong thing. Alright, I won't pry. So why are you here?"

"Hermione has been plagued by… voices," Fleur answered, rather hesitant. She gave Hermione a quick glance. "She's been plagued by unknown voices for a few years. This morning one of the voices talked to her."

Armand eyed Hermione with a curios expression.

"How often do they come?"

"Whenever they want," Hermione shrugged. She felt uncomfortable talking about this to a stranger in front of Fleur. "Sometimes multiple times a day, sometimes once, sometimes once in a few days. It varies."

"What do they usually say?"

Hermione sighed. Why did she agree to this? Damn Fleur and her ability to hypnotise Hermione.

"Some would laugh, some would cry, some would wail, some would beg. Sometimes they talk about nonsensical things. Sometimes they'd sound sane and would discuss something seriously. Their topics seem to be random."

"And when did it start? Do you remember where you were and what you were doing?"

"In Leaky Cauldron," recalled the brunette. "I was having drinks with some friends. We were celebrating the fact that we're still alive."

Armand tilted his head to the side, thinking. Fleur, noticing Hermione was fidgety, took her hand gently and held it. Armand blinked at that but said nothing.

"Hermione, can you do me a favour?" Armand asked. "Sit closer to me, look into my eyes, and open your mind."

Hermione frowned.

"I won't hurt you. Fleur would skin me alive if I do that."

Hermione hesitated.

"Hermione, I won't let you get hurt," Fleur said gently. "But I won't force you to do it if you don't want to."

"What are you going to do, Armand?"

"To look into you, of course," he answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "But really, is it that bad for another person, a certified 'madman', to look into your mind to check the voices?"

Hermione wanted to tell him that yes, that would be an absurd thing to do. She did not want another person to be in her mind. But Fleur looked at her with a hopeful and nervous expression in her eyes, despite her calm face.

"Alright," Hermione agreed, not knowing why she said that. Nervously she sat as close as possibly to Armand, looked into his eyes, and allowed her mental guard to lower.

It was over as soon as it started. Armand only looked at her for a moment before turning his head away.

"What do you think?" Fleur asked softly, sitting next to Hermione. The blonde rubbed Hermione's shoulders soothingly.

"Not my family's favourite method of torture but Hermione here is cursed." A pause. "Sort of."

"Curse? We've defeated Voldemort. He's dead," Hermione's voice rose an octave. A horrifying thought went through her mind – what if Voldemort was not truly dead but somehow managed to make Hermione a Horcrux by accident?

Armand looked at her as if she was crazy.

"It has nothing to do with him. Someone that hates you or has a grudge on you placed this curse on you. This person wants you to go mad slowly with the intention of you taking your own life. It's a very old, dark, and expensive ritual to do."

Fleur swore in French, which shocked Hermione. The brunette never heard her swore before.

"Tell me who did it, Armand," growled Fleur. There was a feral look in her eyes. "I will skin them alive myself."

"Unfortunately I can't help you with that, darling. What you can do, however, is to pay Mildred a visit."

"No." Fleur's answer was quick and firm.

Armand raised his eyebrows. "I thought you want to help Hermione?"

Fleur gritted her teeth. "Is there nobody else aside from that accursed woman?"

"Unfortunately, no. Well, maybe there is but I have no idea. At the present time, your best bet is Mildred. I'm sorry my dear, even if I were a free man, I wouldn't be of much help in that department."

Fleur groaned and buried her head in her hands.

"Fleur, that's okay, you don't have to force yourself," Hermione tried to soothe the blonde. "I'm used to this. I won't let them win."

Fleur raised her head and gave Hermione a small smile. She shook her head. "No, Hermione. You're too precious."

"Too precious to the point of not marrying her," Armand muttered. Fleur kicked his shin rather viciously. Hermione blushed, feeling very uncomfortable.

"Ow! You're too cruel, Fleur, to attack such a helpless innocent man."

"You deserve it," Fleur stuck her tongue out.

"Well, go away now. Find Mildred."

Fleur kissed Armand's cheeks before rising to her feet.

Before exiting the room, Armand told Hermione, "You'll be fine, girly. You have Fleur."

The familiar knot in her stomach appeared again and she felt a pang of guilt.


	5. Uncertainty

_Hi everyone! Some of you were guessing that Hermione is having PTSD and well, she is not. I heard stories of villagers in South East Asian countries (stories of my father's relatives) struggling and/or dying from curses similar to Hermione's. I tweaked it here and there to fit the story so while there are similarities, there are also a lot of differences. Now, whether these curses are real or they are just superstitions, I don't know. There are still many things science has not been able to explain yet but I personally prefer it if these curses are not real because it's a horrible way to die._

 _Anyway, I am touched and overwhelmed from your support and interest in this story._

 _I thought I could finish one chapter within two to three days but alas, life thinks differently._

 _So without further ado, here's the next chapter._

 _Thank you for leaving your reviews, I really appreciate it._

 _I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. :)_

 _Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter._

 _P.S.: Please excuse any mistakes especially grammatical ones. I reread it a few times but some might've gone undetected._

* * *

"So who's Mildred?"

Their return from the lake an hour ago, no words passed between them until Hermione decided to break the silence. The brunette watched Fleur made tea for them both. The blonde was clearly agitated as her movements were lacking the usual grace and elegance that characterised Fleur. Hearing that question, Fleur's jaw tensed. Hermione wondered whether satisfying her curiousity was worth the difficult interrogation ahead.

"An acquaintance," Fleur finally said, trying her best to keep calm.

"You seem to dislike her."

"We just do not see eye to eye," Fleur handed Hermione a cup of tea. The brunette gratefully held it in her cold hands.

"Oh? Why is that? Let me guess – she has a horrible taste for fashion."

Hermione's attempt to lighten the conversation failed. Fleur still had that stony expression on her face. The blonde decided to stand at the window, staring at the brilliantly blue sky.

"She's a person I never want to ever see again."

Hermione reached out her hand and squeezed Fleur's arm gently.

"We don't have to see Mildred, you know," Hermione said softly. "I'm pretty sure there are other ways to figure this…curse."

Curse. That word left such a bitter taste in her mouth. She had a long list of suspects, most of them relatives of killed, captured, and hiding Death Eaters. Plus Rita Sketter, that moronic cow. But Hermione was certain Skeeter would not go that far. The journalist's preferred style was to write sensational and horrible articles about the people she hated.

"Hermione, we must not take this lightly," Fleur frowned. "When I was working as a Curse-Breaker, I've seen how horrible even the simplest curse can be. No. We will go and see Mildred. I can't let you suffer for something that has nothing to do with you."

Fleur gently released Hermione's grip from her arm.

"I'm going to look for Mildred," the blonde told Hermione. "I shouldn't be long."

Hermione sighed as she watched Fleur left and Disapparated away. The brunette looked out of the window and decided it would be a waste to stay inside when the weather was beautiful.

Five minutes later, the brunette dozed off in the middle of the lake.

* * *

Hermione opened her fridge and was overjoyed to see the leftovers pasta Fleur made last night. It was late in the evening and the brunette was starving. She murmured a food heating spell over the pasta and gobbled it up.

Once her stomach was appeased, Hermione rested on her couch. She glanced at the clock and frowned. It was nearly midnight yet Fleur had not returned. Unease crept into Hermione's heart. Had something bad happen to Fleur? Was it something to do with this Mildred character? The brunette was anxious.

Hermione had no idea where to even start to look for Fleur. The blonde did not give any hints where she would be going. The brunette found herself pacing in front of the fireplace, strongly considering to activate the illegal Floo she kept just in case of emergencies. She was gathering her courage to use the Floo when she heard the familiar loud crack at the door.

The brunette was just in time to catch a falling Fleur stumbling from the door.

"Fleur? Are you okay? What happened?"

The blonde reeked of alcohol, cigarettes, and incense. She was mumbling incoherently.

"Hang on, I'll carry you to the bed."

The tall blonde proved to be too difficult for Hermione to carry in her arms. Half-carrying half-dragging a nearly unconscious Fleur to the bed renewed Hermione's vow to work out. Not that she would actually do it. Who had the time to exercise?

While trying to tuck the blonde in nicely, the giggling Fleur pulled Hermione and the brunette fell atop Fleur.

"Awww we are together in the bed," Fleur slurred in a sing-song voice. She was trying to embrace Hermione but the brunette was quick enough to dodge and scrambled off the bed.

As Fleur continued her incoherent singing, Hermione tried her best to undress the blonde and get her to change into clothes fit for sleeping. But when Hermione took off Fleur's scarf and saw imprints of lipsticks on the blonde's neck, Hermione swore her heart stopped.

The brunette tried to control her breathing. Tears were threatening to fall. She felt so confused.

 _Why am I feeling so weird? Was it because I was worried for her safety and now I am relieved that she's okay? But shouldn't I be happy instead? Why am I crying?_

Vision blurred by tears, Hermione ran out of the room. Without giving it further thought, she grabbed a handful of the Floo powder, activated the Floo, and stumbled into Grimmauld Place, startling Harry and Ginny.

Hermione ran straight into Ginny's arms and sobbed her heart out. The brunette did not notice the awkward atmosphere in the room.

"Um… 'Mione? As much as I don't mind you to be crying on my shoulder, can I please get dressed first?"

Hermione looked at her redhead friend, confused. Then she blushed and buried her face in her palms.

"I am so sorry, I had no idea," the brunette wanted to melt into the floor right at that moment. "I didn't mean to – oh god I am so sorry!"

Harry scuttled upstairs while yelling out, "Lovely to see you again, 'Mione, and I will kill whoever made you cry but gotta go, I think I've got an owl for me."

"Come back here, you coward!" Ginny yelled at him, half laughing. She then gently tugged at Hermione's arm and dragged the brunette to the sofa.

"Alright then missy, care to explain why you decided to shock us through the Floo at midnight when we're stark naked and I was so close to reaching the heavens?"

Hermione blushed again and decided to stare at the very interesting oaken table in front of her. She was highly aware that her redhead best friend had only a throw to cover herself. Unlike Hermione, Ginny did not seem to feel awkward about it.

"And before you ask, no, I do not share, even if it's with you, 'Mione."

Hermione's face turned redder at the implication.

"No, no, that's not my intention," the brunette shook her head vigorously. "I'm really sorry to walk in to you guys having er… fun. Had I known it, I wouldn't have done it."

"That's okay, 'Mione," Ginny chuckled. "Well, if it were anyone else I'd murder them right this instant but since it's you, I'll be lenient. So tell me, what's wrong? It must be really important to disrupt our sex."

"I won't be hearing the end of this, will I?" groaned Hermione. A glance at Ginny's mischievous eyes answered that question. Hermione sighed. "Well, I don't know. It's nothing big. It's not important even. I think I was just being foolish for no reason."

"Hermione, I have an Auror as a husband and I can assure you my wand work is pretty cool as well," Ginny said in a rather threatening voice. "Either you tell me voluntarily right now or else…"

Hermione gulped. She had nearly forgotten her redhead best friend was not one above doing things illegally. Or at the very least, to bend the law as far as possible. But this was so confusing and Hermione was starting to feel embarrassed for overreacting over nothing of importance.

Ginny sighed, looking at Hermione who was having an internal conflict.

"I'll get us some drinks," the redhead told her.

Moments later, she returned carrying two bottles of wine and with only one glass. She offered Hermione one whole bottle.

"Drink up," the redhead looked deadly serious. "Sipping from the glass will not get you drunk quickly enough. So chug this."

Hermione stared at the proffered bottle and then at Ginny's determined face. The brunette contemplated.

"Hermione, I love you to deaths but I swear I will strangle you for making it so hard for your own friends to help you."

Hermione's eyes darted around the room, trying to locate Ginny's wand. The redhead's temper was not one Hermione would voluntarily face. The brunette took the bottle and took a sip gingerly. Ginny sighed and sat beside Hermione who decided that the bottle label was worthy of her undivided attention.

"'Mione, when you disappeared suddenly a year ago, I was devastated," Ginny leaned back, staring at the ceiling, lost in thoughts. "You were and still are my best friend. No, it's more than that. You're the sister I've never had. I blamed myself for not seeing the signs, for not realizing that you were having internal struggles. You left without telling me anything. No, don't deny it," Ginny placed a finger on Hermione's lips, "I know I was partly to be blamed. You were always there for me, yet I did not do the same for you. I still don't know what I did wrong, but I know I had a hand in it. If it wasn't the case, you'd have told me something."

Hermione swished the bottle gently and took a gulp.

"What happened to us, 'Mione? What's happened to all of us?" Ginny sighed, running her hand through her hair in frustration. "The war is over yet none of us managed to fully recover. Harry's burying himself in his job, convinced that he's responsible to make sure no other will take Voldemort's place. Bill's gone in seclusion, not even wanting to communicate with his own family. George… well, at least he's still alive. Ron's always angry but thank Merlin Luna can keep him in line."

"What's wrong with Ron?" Hermione asked softly.

Ginny shrugged. "Beats me. He's always angry all the time since you left. Except when he's with Luna. I swear that girl must've given him some sort of drug all the time. He's stopped talking to us after our wedding. Nobody knows why. But that's beside the point. My point is… oh what the hell," Ginny downed her glass and poured herself another, "in sort of a roundabout way, the point I'm trying to make is that we are all fucked up, 'Mione. None of us is successful to leave the past behind and move on completely. We are all broken. I am broken. You are broken. Why won't you let me help you? Why won't you let Harry help you?"

Hermione was silent.

 _Because all of you are frightened by me,_ she wanted to say. _You'll see me as a monster if you know_.

"You were never close to Fleur but out of the blue you let her help you. Not me. Not Harry. Yeah, sure, I'm glad that you at least let someone in, let someone share your burden. But why do you keep your friends out? Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for you to have a girlfriend but – "

"She's not my girlfriend," Hermione cut of rather harshly.

"'Mione, there's no need to hide it from me," Ginny said gently, with a little hurt in her expression. "I'm not judging you. I'm just glad someone's making you happy. You deserve it."

"She's not my girlfriend," Hermione repeated. She buried her head in her hands. "I screwed it up. She hates me now."

"What happened? Tell me, 'Mione," Ginny said softly and placed a comforting arm around the now sobbing girl.

"I don't know, Gin, I don't know," Hermione finally said. "It's so confusing. I don't understand it myself."

Ginny pulled the brunette into her arms and rubbed her back soothingly.

"Did you guys have a fight?"

Ginny felt Hermione's head shook slowly.

"Was she suddenly cold and distant to you?"

Hermione shook her head again.

"Alright, that doesn't sound so bad, 'Mione. Wait – is she cheating on you?"

"We're not dating, Gin…"

"I am officially confused as well, 'Mione. What is it? Do you need me to beat her up?"

That earned a chuckle from the brunette.

"Thank you for the lovely offer but no, there's no need to beat anyone up."

"Hermione Granger, can we cut to the chase and tell me what in the bloody Merlin's name is wrong so I can decide whether to raise hell or not?"

"I don't know, Gin." Ginny growled. Hermione quickly added, "I mean, it's so confusing."

"If you're repeating those words one more time I swear…"

"She was drunk. Just now. She came home drunk. There's a lipstick mark on her neck."

"And how would that be a problem if you guys are not dating?" Ginny asked carefully.

"We kissed, Gin, we kissed! That's why!"

"So you kissed but you're not dating, and yet you're hurt because Fleur might be with someone else? I am not sure whether I understand what you're trying to convey."

"I… I kissed her. Last night. Then I… ran away. Nothing else happened. Then just now she came back drunk. With the lipstick on her neck."

Hermione could feel Ginny was trying to contain her laughter. The brunette frowned. She pushed herself away from the redhead and narrowed her eyes.

"Why are you laughing?"

Ginny burst out her laughter.

"We are not in school anymore, 'Mione! Oh my, I can't believe I'm facing another Hogwarts drama," Ginny was holding her sides, tears of laughter down her cheeks.

Hermione felt herself starting to get irritated.

"But since it's you, 'Mione, maybe I can understand. I mean, you were busy saving the boys for seven years. I doubt you had time to be a proper teenager."

"Ginevra Weasley, if you don't stop your laughter now I will walk out of this place!"

Ginny wiped the tears from her eyes and raised her hands in surrender.

"Alright, alright, there I've stopped laughing. But seriously, 'Mione, you're so damn cute. I have a question though – did she kiss you back?"

Hermione felt her cheeks reddened. She looked away and mumbled something.

"I can't hear you, 'Mione."

"Yes, she did," Hermione answered irritably. "What does it matter anyway?"

Ginny chuckled and put an arm around the brunette.

"Because it means you both need to discuss about your feelings."

"There's nothing to discuss."

"Oh sweetie, come on. Tell me, how do you feel about her?"

Hermione stared into the bottle of wine that was still clutched in her hand. How did she feel about Fleur? She took a swig and pondered.

"Fleur is… very kind. Very patient. One of the nicest people I've met. Strong. Beautiful. Clever. Funny. Great cook."

"You're avoiding my question, woman. How do you feel about her?" Ginny persisted.

Hermione took another swig. Ginny would not give up, it seemed.

"Do you like her? Do you care for her? Do you hate her? Do you find her disgusting? What is it?"

Hermione sighed. She was starting to think her impulse to come here was a mistake.

"'Mione?"

"She makes me feel happy," Hermione admitted. "I feel happy and calm when she's around. I feel content."

"And how do you feel when she sleeps next to you?"

Hermione whipped her head. How did Ginny know about that? The brunette did not say anything about sleeping next to Fleur.

"I knew it," the redhead smirked.

Hermione groaned. She fell into a trap.

"I feel safe," she blushed, fixing her eyes on the bottle in her hand. "I feel calm. It's as if the world passes by without dragging me with it, and no matter how much pain I am in, I know things will be alright."

"Then I believe you know what to do," Ginny said softly. "Stop running away from your heart, 'Mione. It's not healthy." She glanced at the clock. "I don't mean to kick you out but Harry will be going outstation tomorrow for Merlin knows how long and I intend to make every moment count."

The redhead gave Hermione a hug and as she climbed the stairs, she told the brunette, "The heart is a funny thing – the more you resist, the more it chains you. Don't be afraid of it, 'Mione. You're a bloody Gryffindor."

It was quite some time before Hermione put the bottle gently on the table and Floo-ed back to her lake.

* * *

Hermione felt the gentle ray of the sun fell upon her cheek. Awakened by the warmth, she stretched and opened her eyes. She was on her bed, her blanket snugly covering her. Fleur must have carried her sometime in the morning. Hermione did not remember what time she reached home. But whatever the time was, she knew she did not have enough sleep. She was tired.

Sounds from the kitchen indicated Fleur was up and about, preparing breakfast as usual. Hermione clambered down slowly and dragged herself to the kitchen. To leave Fleur alone and skip breakfast did not feel right to the brunette. Breakfast with Fleur was a ritual she cherished. It was a simple, yet peaceful activity. She sitting at the table, Fleur messing around with the pots and pans. As much as Hermione was not ready to face Fleur, breakfast time with the blonde someone assured her that the day was going to be okay.

Hermione quietly greeted Fleur and took her usual seat. The blonde looked tired and there was a hint of turmoil in her eyes. Hermione frowned. Fleur was not one to dwell in sadness. Fleur's eyes were always dancing. But there was no dance there today.

They both ate quietly, letting the silence spoke for them. Fleur seemed focus on her eggs, and Hermione could not bring herself to start a conversation. There were a million questions in the brunette's head, but she was too afraid to hear the answers. She was too scared to find the truth in her own heart.

"I've made us an appointment with Mildred today," Fleur spoke, breaking the silence. She did not look at Hermione. "As soon as you're ready we're leaving."

Hermione just nodded. Her nearly non-existent appetite was completely gone. Fleur went looking for Mildred yesterday. Came back drunk. And… No. Hermione did not want to think too much. Who was she to get sensitive over something that was none of her business? Who was she to feel hurt? What was there to feel hurt about? No, she decided. She was hurt because she was just afraid something bad had happened to Fleur. That was all.

Hermione took a shower and tried to wash away the negative feelings growing in her heart. The lipstick mark on Fleur's neck. The kiss. Oh god, the kiss. The lipstick mark. The kiss. Fleur's confused expression when Hermione ran away after the kiss. The lipstick mark. The kiss.

Ginny's words came unbidden to mind. Hermione groaned. No. She was an intellectual and logical person. She and Fleur were just friends. There was nothing more. She was just concerned about her friend's wellbeing. Except that she never had the urge to kiss her other female friends. She wanted to taste Fleur's soft lips once more.

Hermione shook her head. Whoever placed this curse upon her was clever. She was now thinking and acting like a bleeding teenager in love.

 _Grow up, Granger_ , she scolded herself. The whole idea itself was ridiculous. But why was it ridiculous, she asked herself. She was confused for a moment. Why, indeed, was it ridiculous? Oh yeah, she was not Fleur's type. It was the goddamn blonde and her insufferable teasing that put ideas in Hermione's head.

Hermione dried herself and decided to dress herself in a pair of jeans, a black tee, and her comfortable grey sweater. Fleur could be the fashionista for them both. Especially when the blonde's well-toned legs were wrapped in tight leather pants… Hermione shook her head. She was going insane.

Hermione went outside, where Fleur was waiting, and accepted the blonde's hand. It felt awkward. She immediately released the hand as soon as they reached their destination.

Hermione looked around and was surprised to find themselves at Diagon Alley. The place was still as busy as ever, bustling with activities and filled with people from all walks of life. Fortunately, school was on and it was a weekday. The brunette did not think she'd be able to handle worshipful stares and admiring glances from random strangers. The thought of school children idolizing her made her squirm inside. No wonder Harry never liked to go out often.

"Come, Hermione."

Fleur led her to a shop with a banner reading "Patel & Associates". Inside, Fleur nodded to the receptionist and went straight through one of the three doors. Behind that door was a room filled with what you'd expect from a normal office – desks, chairs, fireplace, books, shelves, and the odd item or two. The room was empty.

"Fleur, where are we?" The place felt like an accountant's office to Hermione.

Fleur grabbed Floo powder from the table next to the fireplace and offered some to Hermione.

"Officially, this is an accounting firm," murmured Fleur, eyes darting around. Hermione frowned at that. Shady things were not her thing. "When I was working with the goblins, sometimes we had to search for hard-to-find people for special consultations. This firm is great at it. Don't ask me how, I myself don't know. As long as they're not hurting anyone, I don't want to know."

They stood in front of the fireplace.

"Just say 'Room ten Pig and Apple Inn'."

Fleur threw the powder which instantly set the fireplace alight, said the destination clearly, and disappeared into the green fire.

Hermione hesitated. She did not like this. It felt like a cloak and dagger mission that reminded her of her seven years spent with Harry and Ron trying to keep the boys alive. Except that this time, Fleur was the one trying to keep _her_ alive.

Hermione threw the powder and followed Fleur into a room where two women were in a conversation. They turned to look at Hermione who dusted herself off and Fleur gave the brunette a little smile. The other woman, a petite, dark-haired woman with an imposing air and piercing stare studied Hermione. The brunette felt uncomfortable and was on the defense immediately.

"You must be Hermione, I am Mildred," the woman sauntered and offered her hand.

Hermione shook it stiffly. She instantly disliked this woman.

"My dear Fleur here was just telling me that you have a little…problem," Mildred nodded to Fleur who shifted uncomfortably. Hermione narrowed her eyes. Fleur was not one who would shift uncomfortably. Fleur was always in control.

"Take a seat, take a seat…"

Hermione took the seat next to Fleur and ensured there was no space between their chairs. She felt aggressively possessive. Mildred must've noticed this, but she only raised an eyebrow and took the chair opposite them both.

"From what Fleur darling described to me, somebody hates you enough to curse you to death," Mildred stared at Hermione, her eyes expressionless. "Tell me, have you tried exorcism?"

Hermione laughed. This woman was ridiculous.

"I am not possessed. If I were, I'd have known the signs," the brunette scoffed. "My memories are clear except when I am drunk, and I know what actions I took every day. I do not have blank, unexplainable periods."

"Exorcism is not only conducted on possession," Mildred said softly, throwing Fleur a glance at the word 'possession'. Hermione narrowed her eyes, furious. "Exorcism is also conducted to ward malevolent spirits as well as expunging negative spirits who are sent to do you harm."

"What proof is there that I am cursed and have an evil spirit who's trying to make me go insane? I am a war survivor – I might be just having traumas," there was anger and bitterness in her voice.

"Hermione…" Fleur said softly, squeezing the brunette's knee gently.

"Don't get me wrong – I have no interest in saving people from curses," Mildred leaned back on her chair. Hermione wanted to rearrange her face and wipe that smirk off. "The only reason why I am even willing to waste my time to discuss this with you is because of sweet Fleur here. How does it feel, Fleur, to have your efforts thrown back at you?"

Hermione was trying to hold back her temper.

"Mildred, please," Fleur warned.

Mildred looked annoyed.

"Since ancient times, curses have been used to destroy one's enemy," Mildred said coolly. "From the Aztecs to the native Americans to the Palaus and even to tribes in South East Asia, those gifted in magic understand the power of curses. Many cultures who still uphold their tradition use curses to inflict damage on another. While the rituals and payment offered vary from culture to culture, they share the same essence: capturing a malevolent spirit and send it off to the victim to do damage."

Hermione kept quiet, still pissed and skeptical.

"Generally, a victim will slowly decay and take his or her own life sooner or later," continued Mildred. "Some, for no reason at all, would start to be unhappy and depressed. They would be mistaken from having a mental illness. Some would be having trouble sleeping as they would incur nightmares every single night, leading them to fall sick and the eventual death. Some, like you, would hear voices at random who try to drive you crazy. If you think this is absurd, aren't creatures of magic and flying on brooms impossible as well?"

Hermione had to admit Mildred had a point.

"Hermione," Fleur said quietly, "Mildred is skilled in getting rid of curses. She won't hurt you, I promise."

"You're always so sweet, Fleur," drawled Mildred. Hermione wanted to punch her.

"But really, I _am_ skilled enough. However, I can't help you."

"What? But Mildred, you said – "

"I know what I said, Fleur darling. But the curse placed on your girl here is ancient and by the looks of it, someone has paid a hefty sum. A blood offering, perhaps? Look, she's already hating me for no reason. The spirit knows it is in danger. I haven't even tried anything yet aside from talking to her."

Hermione started to breathe heavily. Someone was laughing in the background. Someone was crying. The voices were back again, tormenting her. She gripped her head in her hands, trying to control her breathing, trying to control the pounding in her head.

"Fleur, bring her back," Hermione heard Mildred said. "Before I can do anything about it, she must be happier. She's weighed down by unhappiness and confusion, the spirit likes that. Bring her back to me once she is calmer and happier. If you insist on me helping her right now, I'm afraid I'll destroy her. Go now, Fleur."

Hermione felt Fleur carrying her gently. As the exited the room, Mildred gave the blonde a goodbye kiss on the cheek. The brunette growled, startling the two women. Mildred gave her an understanding look.

"You both need to talk about your feelings, Fleur. Don't let this get worse. She's already suffering horribly."

The door closed. The laughter grew louder, drowning everything else.

Then all was black.

* * *

Hermione groaned. Her head hurts. But at least the voices were gone. Well, not really. There was a humming. A humming? She opened her eyes and looked into Fleur's warm eyes. The brunette missed that warmth.

"It seems I'm always blacking out," Hermione said weakly.

Fleur gave her a gentle smile. "I'm glad I'm around to catch you."

Predictably, Hermione blushed. She looked away and lied on her back. They were lying on a mattress on the raft in the middle of the lake, with the starry sky spread above.

"How long was I out?"

"Hours."

Fleur turned and lied on her back too, and stared at the skies. She took Hermione's hand and played with it idly.

"Mildred and I were classmates at Beauxbatons," the blonde said. "We were roommates and were very close. You can say she was my first love. But I was not hers. Well, maybe I was too. I don't really know. She's a free spirit, the type that you can't cage. I was blind and refused to understand that. I gave my heart to her, knowing she shared her heart with nobody and with everybody at the same time. I was heartbroken when I found out she was with two others at the same time. She had warned me from the beginning but I would not listen. I went to Triwizard, wanting to nurse my heart. She did not, wanting to explore other people."

Fleur turned her head and looked at Hermione, who decided to observe the skies instead.

"I'm sorry if I was acting cold toward you, it was not my intention to hurt you," the blonde said softly. "It's just that… I've never seen her again after returning from Triwiz – she swapped rooms with another girl and I was busy studying for the exams and right after I came back to England. The hurtful and angry feelings resurfaced when I thought about having to see her again."

"I'm happy that you're both together again," Hermione faked a happy voice. She still could not bring herself to see Fleur and therefore did not see the frown on the blonde's face.

"We're not together again, Hermione. That was the past."

"You're…not?" Hermione dared herself to look at the confused Fleur.

"What made you think that way?"

"But last night you came back drunk and uh… drunk."

For a moment, Fleur looked like she did not understand what Hermione was trying to say. Then, she laughed.

"Was it about the lipstick on my neck? That wasn't Mildred – it was Gaby. Do you remember Gabriella, my sister?" Hermione nodded. "I was in Diagon Alley at Patel's and when after I contacted Mildred and set up an appointment, I came across Gaby and her friends. Naturally, she dragged me out to some clubs without giving me any choice in the matter. She can get quite overprotective so she has this tendency to put a lipstick mark on my neck to warn off people. I can tell you there were so many times I went home alone because she scares off people," Fleur chuckled, reminiscing.

Hermione released a sigh of relieve she did not know she held.

"So you're not with Mildred?"

"How could I, when you're so precious to me?" Fleur's eyes were dancing, reflecting the stars. Hermione felt her stomach tightening.

"I'm glad nothing happened to you, I was just worried because you came home late."

Fleur gave Hermione a sad smile, released her hand, and sat up, back toward the brunette.

"Thank you for worrying about my safety," Fleur sounded disappointed.

Hermione cringed. Did she say something wrong? They were just getting back on good terms.

"Um Fleur, about the other night, I'm sorry I didn't mean to do that," Hermione felt like kicking herself. Why bring up that subject?

Fleur nodded and said rather coolly, "I understand, you were just confused. Don't worry, things happen."

An image of an angry Ginny came to mind. Hermione can imagine what the redhead would lecture her about. She cringed. Feelings. Right. No running from feelings. As if she understood her feelings.

 _There's a reason I'm in Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw,_ she mused to herself. _Instincts over logics, perhaps?_

Hermione sat up and took a deep breath, shaking slightly.

"I mean, I'm sorry for running away. That was cowardly of me."

Fleur turned, surprised. There was a question in her eyes.

Hermione gathered all the courage she could find and inched closer, a hand gently resting against Fleur's cheek. The blonde's eyes were a swirl of emotions, emotions that Hermione could not analyse. Their face drew closer, and Hermione noticed there was a small scar hidden at Fleur's left eyebrow. Was that from the war? Or Triwizard? Or during childhood when children were ignorant of mortal perils?

When their lips touched, Hermione felt an electric shock flowing through her body. Her stomach was jolting from nervousness, anticipation, and panicking. Fleur's hands pushed her into the blonde further, leaving no space behind. No more running and hiding. Not from this one, at least. The saccharine taste of Fleur made the brunette wanted more. She felt alive. She felt like she could soar amongst the stars. When Fleur gently bit her lower lip, she groaned and wanted to wrestle Kronos to control time.

Breathing heavily, Hermione looked into Fleur's eyes. They were dancing, dancing with gentleness and a fire.

She liked it.


	6. Soul Killers

**_Hi everyone! I am glad to know that you guys like the story. Here's another chapter, I hope you enjoy it!_**

 ** _Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This is for pure personal enjoyment._**

* * *

It had been quite some time since Hermione read a book out of pure enjoyment. During her sixth year at Hogwarts, especially toward the end of the school year, she had been heavily focusing on drinking as much knowledge as possible to prepare for the eventuality of her gallivanting around with Harry and Ron. The death of Dumbledore pumped so much 'book adrenaline' into her. When Voldemort died for good, somehow Hermione found it quite a difficult thing to relax and enjoy a book without analyzing its contents and studying it for future purposes. When the voices started, there was no time for her to enjoy books.

There was a whole shelf of books in her personal library that had been begging for her attention for years. Some were books gifted to her on her previous birthdays and Christmases (before she disappeared from the world). Some were books she compulsively bought whenever she went out to shop. Yet, unless they contained information that might help her free herself from her demons, she could not bring herself to read them.

Hermione touched one of the books in yellow cover titled _Subterranean Whiskers_ and smiled wistfully. Harry gifted her the novel for her twenty-third birthday. She had not read it. Well, it was the first time in years she touched it. Should she read it? Should she not? Would there be a clue inside, showing her what exactly ailed her?

Because a curse was the laziest way for people to explain the unexplainable.

Hermione could not quite believe the curse theory that Fleur and her odd friends were claiming. The brunette was rather annoyed at herself for not thinking clearly when Fleur decided to drag her to meet Armand and Mildred. Hermione was also quite worried for the kind of friends Fleur was keeping. One was institutionalized (even though seeming to be of sound mind) and the other a questionable ex. That word brought a growl from the brunette's mouth.

She shook her head. That was in the past and Fleur was with Hermione. Sort of. They had not discussed the status of the relationship after last night's kiss. They cuddled after that and fell asleep on the raft, only to be woken up by the light drizzle of the morning rain. Fleur had gone out not long after, needing to do something. Whatever it was.

Hermione pulled her hand from the book and went to the windows, watching the rain fell. It was such a mesmerizing and soothing natural occurrence, and with the steady rhythms of the rain meeting the earth, it was hypnotizing.

Of all the likeliest possibilities, curses were not one Hermione considered. Well, not the kind of curse that dealt with the spiritual world. She thought only Luna Lovegood could spew such nonsense. For if such things were real, then why were there not many wizards and witches committing suicides due to hearing strange voices?

The more she thought about it, the more ridiculous it seemed. Why was Fleur even bothering to entertain such idea? Was that the blonde's way of making Hermione felt better, that it was not the brunette's fault for succumbing to madness? Hermione frowned. Why was she even thinking of Fleur in that way? Fleur had been nothing but nice to her for the past few months, even putting up with her bouts of 'headaches'. Hermione should treat Fleur better than that.

Hermione was deep in her thoughts and did not hear a soft knock at the door. She was startled when a pair of hands embraced her from behind.

"Fleur! I didn't hear you coming in," Hermione felt her heart rate skyrocketing from the adrenaline and from being hugged by Fleur.

"I'm sorry to startle you, Hermione," Fleur said, a lilt to her voice. Hermione liked it very much and wondered why she had never noticed it before. "It's just that it's cold outside and you're so warm, can't help myself."

Hermione felt herself blushing. "You have such sweet mouth," she rolled her eyes, pretending she was not affected.

"That's why you love it, hmmm?" Fleur whispered in her ears.

"So how was your morning?" Hermione decided to change the topic before it escalated. She looked up at the taller witch, whose features changed to seriousness instantly.

"I went to see Mildred." Hermione tried to control the jealousy that sprung forth. "She would like to come here to check the area, see whether the lake and the house are infested as well. According to her, the curse placed on you is usually the kind that the victim's house and surroundings are infested."

"Fleur, don't take it wrong, I do appreciate your concerns and you trying to help me, but I doubt this is caused by a curse," Hermione spun gently and looked into Fleur's eyes. "Yes, I do know you worked as a Curse-Breaker but that's different. Those curses you came across were spells and other magical entrapments to prevent people from entering their vaults. It's nothing to do with someone sending spirits, ghosts, and whatnots to haunt someone else mentally. Those are just myths."

Fleur looked hurt. Hermione felt guilty instantly. Why could she not shut her mouth and find better ways of explaining things logically?

"I know it sounds highly absurd to you Hermione, but can you just play along with it for a little while? I won't let any harm come to you. Besides, you've got nothing to lose. If after a month you are bored of playing along and there are no changes, I promise I will not mention about the curse anymore."

Hermione tilted her head to the side, considering. Fleur looked so earnest and serious about it. Oh well. The blonde was right. It was not as if by playing along with Fleur that Hermione's schedule would be in disarray. Perhaps a little bit of weird adventure was in order. Except for one thing.

"I don't like the idea that Mildred is coming here. Not even my friends know where I live, Fleur," confessed Hermione. "You're the only person that I have ever allowed to be here." Even though it was accidental, she did not say.

Fleur nodded. "I understand. Well, I will go and see Mildred and let her know that we shall do this at another location."

"No, I'm coming with you," Hermione decided to Fleur's surprise. "While we're at it, why don't we just go see her now?"

That one moment of bursting confidence and bravery was soon regretted by Hermione when she stepped out of the Floo and entered Mildred's room (this time at the _Winking Boggarts Inn_. Hermione was starting to suspect Mildred to be an outlaw or a fugitive of some sort.)

The room was heavily incensed which made Hermione sleepy immediately. There were several wind chimes hung on the ceiling, and a spell must be keeping them gently swaying, producing soothing sounds. All furniture were moved to the walls, making space for the middle of the room, where a dark green mat was unfurled, with some bright orange leaves that Hermione did not recognise strewn across the floor. To Hermione's amusement, the mat was placed inside a pentagram drawn in chalk. There were no candles, however. Hermione was quite certain Mildred was something akin to Professor Trelawney, trying so hard to be mysterious and esoterically all-knowing, but turned out to be a fake.

The woman of mystery was dressed up in blue, talking with Fleur in a serious face. Hermione was not consumed with jealousy at that sight nor was she angry to be in the same room with Mildred. Fleur was hers. Or going to be. There was no way Fleur would want to be with Mildred again. The memory of Fleur's kiss cheered Hermione. Was Mildred hiding from people unhappy with the fortunes she told? Or was it because people realised she was a fake? Despite herself, Hermione grinned, amused.

Mildred then noticed the brunette observing the room with a grin, mistaking Hermione to be in a joyful mood. She sauntered to the brunette and greeted her solemnly. Hermione had to control herself from bursting to laughter.

"I am glad the incense and wind chimes are working," Mildred told Hermione. "I was afraid that the ancient knowledge I call upon is not as strong as the demons sent by your enemy."

"Incense and wind chimes are always so dependable," Hermione nodded wisely. Realising Fleur was watching her from across the room, Hermione decided to not overdo it lest the blonde figured out that the brunette was making fun of the whole thing. As amusing as the situation was, Hermione did not want to hurt Fleur's feelings.

"While the demons are temporarily weakened, shall we take the opportunity and start?"

"Um, what are we doing exactly?" Hermione was ready to run and drag Fleur along if Mildred was planning some odd ritual. Well, something more absurd than the current situation.

"I need you to lie on the mat while I make a trace to track the spirits to their source," Mildred said. "At the moment I don't know what and how many demons are there, or who sent them. Without those information, I am unable to...expel them from you."

"So exorcism huh," for a brief moment Hermione was reminded of a few muggle horror movies she watched. "Interesting. Well, shall we?"

Hermione took off her jacket and lied on the mat carefully. She felt uncharacteristically cheerful.

 _There must be some kind of drugs in the incense_ , she mused to herself. Not that it mattered much. This beats feeling miserable all the time.

Mildred stood outside of the pentagram, at Hermione's legs. She signalled Fleur to stand at the opposite, at Hermione's head. The brunette gave Fleur a lazy grin and a small wave. The blonde waved back hesitantly at her, giving Mildred questioning looks.

"Hermione, breathe in deeply and then release it slowly," instructed Mildred. Hermione stifled her giggles. This was Divination all over again, except that she did not have to make up miserable predictions just to pass the class.

"Hermione?"

"Oh yes, I'm sorry, my bad," Hermione realised she let out a few giggles.

She took a deep breath as instructed and exhaled slowly. She repeated it when Mildred prompted her to do so. Hermione lost count of the breathing exercise. The more she did it, the sleepier, lighter, and happier she was.

 _There's definitely drugs_ , she happily thought to herself.

After the umpteenth time, Hermione started to zone out. She stared at the ceiling, studying the dancing wind chimes, marvelling at their graceful movements. She started humming along the sounds, confident the wind chimes were playing 'God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen'. She was barely aware of Mildred asking how she felt and mindlessly nodded her head at the question. Hermione did not notice the looks exchanged between Mildred and Fleur. She was happy in her own world.

Hermione was intrigued when colourful butterflies started to emerge from the wind chimes, fluttering around the room. She watched as several of them slowly descending upon her, their colourful wings swirling through the air.

As they landed on her, Hermione suddenly was consumed in darkness. She did not hear Mildred chanting in the old tongue, she did not hear Fleur calling her name, she did not hear the sounds from the wind chime anymore. The darkness was devoid of all those. The only sound she heard was her own self screaming in agony.

She felt her body burning from within, and watched helplessly as those butterflies that landed on her skin grew claws and buried themselves in her skin, slowly sinking into her. Tears streamed down her eyes – the fire was scorching her insides, her guts felt like they were squeezed and twisted, she could barely breathe, and her skin felt like a million invisible paper edges were cutting her incessantly.

A pale grey mist formed around her, making her feel like a wet dog. She shivered even though her insides could power a thousand saunas. The mist brought a stale and stinky air. Hermione retched.

A cruel laughter reverberated around the darkness. Its source was nowhere yet everywhere. Hermione swore her head was exploding. There were voices giving her their opinions on the reasons for muggles missing their socks during laundry, there were voices reciting page three hundred and fifty one from _Hogwarts: A History_ , there were voices debating the merits of conducting lobotomy on one's eldest daughter, and there were voices asking her why she never rescue them from the Vikings.

Hermione clamped her ears with her hand but to no avail – the voices were still loud and clear. She felt invisible eyes filling the darkness, the void, silently judging.

"Shut up!" she cried, closing her eyes tightly.

The voices ignored her, mocking her inability to defend herself.

"Which knee do you prefer, lass?" a random guttural voice asked her.

Hermione refused to answer.

"Why does it matter? She'd still have another knee. Cut it off!" a high-pitched voice of a youth said gleefully.

There were a thousand clapping, with millions of cheering. Hermione wished herself to die.

"Chop! Chop! Chop!" the voices chanted in excitement.

Hermione felt a sensation of cold steel on her left knee. She was frightened.

"NO! Don't you dare to cut my knee!"

She struggled to move away, wiggling and shaking. She could not see the weapon intending to severe her body and desperately tried to not stay in one spot, trying to make it difficult for the voices to achieve their goal.

"Hermione!"

"I won't let you do it!" the brunette yelled, sobbing with fear and adrenaline.

"Hermione!"

"Let me go!"

"Hermione!"

Suddenly the darkness disappeared and Hermione was back at Mildred's room. The brunette was trashing wildly on the mat, held still by Fleur. Hermione opened her eyes and looked into Fleur's gentle eyes that were filled with worry. There was sweat on the blonde's brow.

"Hermione, I'm here, you're safe," Fleur said.

Hermione gripped Fleur's arms and sobbed. The pain was slowly subsiding. Fleur held her close and rubbed her back soothingly.

"It's alright, it's alright," Fleur said repeatedly.

The sounds made by the wind chime and Fleur's soothing voice quickly calmed Hermione. The incense smelled different, however – it was sweeter and lighter. Hermione buried her head in the nook of Fleur's neck, inhaling the blonde's scent. She felt safe, far from the knee-hungry monsters.

"It's worse than I thought," Hermione heard Mildred spoke slowly, sitting behind the brunette.

"What happened just now, Mil? I've never seen anyone reacting like that," there was a hint of anger in Fleur's voice.

Mildred sighed.

Fleur swore.

"Explain this, Mil! I promised Hermione that she will not be hurt and look what happened!"

"It was not supposed to hurt her," Mildred sounded weary. "It was only supposed to make her sleepy enough and not alert the spirits haunting her so that I can track down their sender. Unfortunately, things went on a different direction."

Fleur snorted.

"Look, Fleur, it's… complicated."

"Either you start explaining things from the beginning or I shall strangle you with my own bare hand, Mildred. Hermione is hurting and I have broken my promise to her."

"Is she that important to you?" there was a tinge of sadness in Mildred's voice.

Hermione put her arms around Fleur. She wanted to tell Mildred off, that Fleur was Hermione's. But the brunette was too tired to even turn back and look at Mildred. So Hermione just growled. Fleur gave her a quick kiss on the forehead.

"Alright, alright. I'll explain," Mildred said tiredly. "About three thousand and forty years ago, or four thousand, wait no…was it five?"

"Just get on with it," Fleur cut irritably.

"There's no need to be impatient, princess," huffed Mildred. "At any rate, a long time ago, when the dark arts were practiced out in the open, when magic was just magic instead of this dark and light path nonsense, a few wizards specializing in necromancy figured out a way to 'entice' a person to commit suicide without it being ever traced back to them. They enslaved a dying man's spirit and, unable to continue its journey to the next cycle of life and had to stay in this world by force, the spirit turned malevolent. The spirit was always hungry for blood. However, as it was a fresh harvest, the spirit was weak. The wizards then 'planted' the spirit to a merchant, someone they disliked greatly for refusing to become their vassal. The spirit caused havoc in the merchant's life, slowly pushing him to the realm of madness. The merchant gave up living and at that precise moment when he firmly decided to end it all, the spirit 'ate' the man."

Hermione turned her head, giving Mildred a disbelieving look. Fleur rolled her eyes at Mildred.

"What? I'm not making this up!" Mildred said defensively. "The spirit 'ate' the man by devouring his will to live, the essence that pushes a person to wake up at the beginning of each day. Once that essence is gone from a person's blood, that person would die. Why do you think as time nears for the elderly, their body slowly grows colder for no apparent reason? There's no more of that essence in their blood, no more fire to warm their body. That's why demons hunger for blood, and that the fresher the blood is, the more the love it. They dislike cold blood, because the life essence has gone."

"I've heard about that," Hermione said, remembering the folk stories she came across months ago. "I'm not saying that I am a believer but I do admit there are many strange things in this world."

Mildred tilted her head to the side, studying the brunette. "You've always like the odd ones, don't you Fleur?" She raised her hands in surrender when both Hermione and Fleur protested. "It's not an insult. It was just an observation."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. She remembered why she disliked Mildred – that woman was too untrustworthy.

"Where was I? Oh yes – when the spirit sent by the wizards returned upon the merchant's death, the wizards knew they've struck gold. They experimented on it further, their killings more gruesome to create the perfect soul killers. They managed to create several types of these abominations. One day, they decided to part ways and each of them focus on perfecting one type of soul killer – that's the name I like to call these demons. As generations passed, the original type of soul killer became the most common and people's favourite. It is the least costly and easiest to create as well as maintain. As you might be guessing, someone sent you that type of soul killer. But what I find most intriguing is that the sender sent more than one soul killer."

Hermione's blinked. It was getting more absurd with each sentence.

"There is a reason why this ancient weaponry is not widely used," Mildred Accio-ed a bottle of wine and took a sip, not bothering to offer to her guests. "Once a soul killer is made, it needs blood to ensure it would not go berserk and attack its master. When a 'buyer' wants to purchase one and send to a victim, the buyer must guarantee payment to the soul killer in the event that the soul killer is unable to kill the victim. There are two payments: one to the wizard who creates, own, and control the soul killer; the other is to the soul killer itself. The stronger a soul killer, the more blood it demands. Someone must be either very confident you will kill yourself or the person must be having no regard to his or her own life that the person is willing to purchase not only one or two, but at least ten of soul killers. How long has this been going on?"

"Six years," whispered Hermione. She felt Fleur tightened her embrace, a refuge.

"I salute your determination," Mildred gave Hermione a toast. "Most people dies after just two years. But then again, you won't be the Golden Girl if you can't fight this thing."

"Mildred, how much danger is Hermione in?"

Mildred shrugged. "Since it's been that long, I'd say she is in mortal danger all the time. However, as long as her will to live does not fade, she'll be fine. Well, fine enough to live another day."

"So can you or can you not help?" Fleur was sounding angry.

"This takes time, Fleur darling," Mildred ignored Hermione's dagger stares for using an endearment term. "My family has been involved in such business for generations so don't you worry, I know what I'm doing. At the moment I sent magical trackers to trace back who owns these soul killers. Depending on how good the person is at hiding, it may take as long as a month. Once that's done, then we can proceed to the next step."

"And what that might be?" Hermione asked.

"Returning the soul killers, of course," Mildred said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. She slowly rose to her feet, stretching her back as she did so. "For the time being, I need you to make sure Hermione does not want to commit suicide, Fleur. The soul killers will increase their attack intensity because they're realizing Hermione's getting help. Stay away from negativity and emotional things. Make her happy. Take a sabbatical from work. Don't do any stressful activities. Fatten up yourselves. Got it?"

Hermione slowly rose to her feet but Fleur gathered the brunette in her arms and carried her instead.

"Got it," the blonde said as they Disapparated from the room.

* * *

Hermione stared at the reading figure next to her. A million things ran through her mind. Some were happy thoughts, some were of sadness. She tried to read and understand the person next to her, who was humming softly as deep blue eyes moved across the pages.

"I'm flattered that you find me interesting to watch," Fleur looked up from her book and grinned at Hermione.

"Why are you doing this?" Hermione voiced out the question that had been bugging her since their return from Mildred's rented room.

Fleur tilted her head to the side, asking Hermione to explain further.

"You've been nothing but kind, gentle, and patient with me," Hermione continued, her mind trying to make sense of Fleur. "Nobody is that perfect. I've been nothing but horrible to you but you just continue on as if I've done nothing wrong. What is your goal? What are you looking for? What do you really want?"

A flash of hurt shone in Fleur eyes.

"Must I have a reason to be nice to you?" the blonde asked quietly.

"Nobody is nice to anyone for no reason," scoffed Hermione. "Besides, we've never been close before. Why now? Wait – this is a setup, isn't it? Ginny and the rest of them just can't leave me alone, right?" She could not keep the anger from seeping into her voice.

Fleur sat and put the book down, looking angry.

"I don't need a reason to justify my feelings for you. It just is. The only time reasons are needed is if I want to hurt someone. What reason do I have to hurt you? None. What reason do I have to make you happy? Everything. You mean the world to me. Why? I don't know, but I do know that I want to be the one who put a smile on your face every day. You know what? I can't do this right now. I understand you hide away from the world to protect yourself. But why are you so afraid of me? Why won't you let me in? Why do you always push me away whenever you realise you've let me become closer to you?"

Hermione watched silently as Fleur stalked out of the room, fuming. The brunette sighed and stared at the ceiling. She closed her eyes but could not erase the memory of hurt and anger on Fleur's face.

"Stop fucking shit up, Granger," she muttered to herself.


	7. Facing Her Fears

_**Hi everyone! I'm sorry to be late, but it's better late than never, right? Been having a hectic week. It seems that the nearer to Christmas it is, the busier life becomes.**_

 _ **Anyway, here's the next chapter. Enjoy!**_

 _ **Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter.**_

* * *

It had been three hours since Fleur walked out of the room. The house was silent. Hermione had not moved from her spot, still staring at the ceilings, a jumble of thoughts running through her mind. She was sure by now Fleur had gone with her things. Hermione had driven the blonde away, and now there was nothing the brunette could do to rectify the situation. Like everyone else, Fleur had finally had enough with Hermione's 'weird situation'. But unlike the rest, the blonde was the one who walked away, instead of Hermione that made herself scarce.

 _It's your fault_ , the small voice in Hermione's mind said, _you were the one that walked out of their lives._

And it was true. Hermione did not give the chance to anyone to understand her, to help with her problems. Time and time again, the brunette pushed people away and built impenetrable walls. She hid her feelings, hid her heart.

Hermione raised her palms and stared at them, frowning. Where had she gone wrong? What had she become?

She sighed and closed her eyes. She jogged her memories and traced back her life from the first day she stepped on Hogwarts' hallowed grounds. What changed her? And what had she changed from? In essence, she was still Hermione Granger. Her mind still contained a wealth of knowledge absorbed from various sources. She was still an intelligent witch, just like she had been ages ago. True, her stance on adhering to the rules to the letter had changed, but she preferred to call it 'maturity', having gone through so much and learned that sometimes, rules had to be broken to achieve what was necessary. Hermione was certain she was still a caring person. She would still defend her friends from evil, would she not? Since there was no Voldemort number two threatening the world, there was no need for her to take arms.

Yet, she felt she had changed into someone she did not recognize. She was a coward. She was a muggleborn Gryffindor who survived Bellatrix's tortures and helped brought down Voldemort, yet could not (or perhaps would not) let anyone in to her heart. Not Harry or Ron, who were her comrades and oldest friends. Not Ginny, her only female best friend. Not even Fleur, whom she had feelings for.

Ah, feelings. A simple yet terrifying word. A word that both liberates and chains a person. How wonderful. Not. It took her quite a while, but Hermione begrudgingly accepted the fact that her heart had some feelings for Fleur. Which made the brunette's life much more complicated than it should be. Because Fleur Delacour was beautiful; Fleur Delacour was brilliant; Fleur Delacour was gentle; Fleur Delacour was warm; Fleur Delacour was patient; Fleur Delacour was a being that should have never crossed paths with one such as Hermione.

But Fleur frightened Hermione. The blonde had this power to wiggle through the cracks in Hermione's walls and slip inside without the brunette noticing until it was too late. Whenever Fleur looked into Hermione's eyes, it was as if the blonde was able to look straight into the brunette's heart. Hermione found it difficult to hide anything. What if one day Fleur finally able to see every single thing in Hermione's heart and walked away immediately?

It was the same fear that kept Hermione from looking for her parents. How would they react when they realised their only child took away their cherished memories of her? Even though Hermione could claim it was for their safety, what parent would be happy with it?

It was also the same fear that kept Hermione from letting her friends know that she was struggling with life. Would they still love and respect her after knowing how screwed up she was inside? She knew she was not fully accepted by her friends. The only reason why she was considered as their friend was because she was Harry's friend who helped to defeat Voldemort.

Hermione sighed. How she wished she was just an ordinary muggle with ordinary problems. Trying to find a job, maybe. Or paying rent. Or deciding which political party to vote for.

She sat and shook her head. Enough with the morose thoughts. If what Mildred said was true, then she should at least not be as miserable as she usually was. Although truth be told, Hermione would not be surprised if Mildred was actually right.

Hermione dragged herself to the jetty, to the lake. Her safe refuge, although not as perfect as in Fleur's arms. She sighed again. Dare she contact Fleur after this?

At the door, Hermione stopped. A familiar figure was lying on her back on the jetty next to the raft. Hermione stared disbelievingly at the sight of a certain blonde gazing at the skies, the breeze playfully blowing her blonde hair.

Heart thumping, Hermione slowly approached the figure, praying earnestly that it was not a trick playing on her mind. She knelt in front of the figure who silently watched her and hesitantly touched the figure's forehead with the tips of her fingers.

"You did not leave," Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's not in my plan, Hermione."

Hermione gingerly sat next to Fleur, keeping some distance. The blonde did not walk away like she had thought. Fleur was merely out of the house, not out of her life. That thought cheered her up amidst the anxiety.

"What is your plan then, Fleur?" Hermione finally asked after a moment of comfortable silence.

"To stay," Fleur said simply.

Hermione looked at her, asking for more explanation.

"When I first saw you at Ginny's party after such a long time, I had this urge to talk to you and get to know you better. I know we were never friends before but that night, all I wanted was to hold your attention. But you were always with someone, your attention occupied. When you ran away from my apartment the next morning, I felt so miserable and so lost. I recognized that feeling – that I was being like a foolish teenager pining for her crush. When I accidentally came here after Ginny's wedding, I knew I had to take matters into my own hands if I don't want you to disappear again. So I decided to stay. And I will stay. Because I want to."

Hermione was speechless. That was not what she expected at all. The genuine honesty in Fleur's eyes frightened Hermione more than the brunette would like to admit. Was Fleur insane? There was nothing that the brunette could possibly offer to make the blonde felt that way. Hermione drew her knees together to her chest and hugged herself. She stared at the horizon, watching the birds flew across the evening skies.

"I am damaged, Fleur," Hermione whispered, ashamed. Oh, how her childhood self would weep to see her present condition. "I am jobless, unsociable, nearly friendless, quite insane, and the only thing that keeps me financially afloat is the money from the award for my part in the war which I selfishly keep instead of donating to charity."

"I am loaded enough," shrugged Fleur. "Plus, who in our generation is not damaged? We are all affected by the war, one way or another. Voldemort's atrocities reached even the far corners of the world, even though his focus was on Britain. If I want someone who is totally undamaged, I'll have to wait for a couple more generations because the next generation will still be affected somewhat by their parents' generation, which is us."

"You know what I mean, Fleur," Hermione said tiredly. "I am losing my mind, whether I want to admit it or not."

Fleur sat and placed her palm on Hermione's chin gently, forcing the brunette to look into the blonde's intense eyes.

"You are not losing your mind," Fleur said firmly. "We will get whoever did this to you and I swear I will strangle the person with my own bare hands."

Hermione was at a loss for words. She shrugged Fleur's hand off and stared into the waters. Fleur sighed and returned to lying on her back.

"I'm sorry for my behaviour," Hermione apologised in a small voice. "I shouldn't have been rude."

"It wasn't your fault. You were just stressed out. I shouldn't have pushed you to see Mildred when you're not ready yet. And I shouldn't push my feelings onto you."

Hermione cringed internally. She did not blame Fleur for being confused. Come to think of it, Hermione was acting as if she was just emotional about the whole thing, never telling Fleur how she actually felt.

"Fleur, I… I'm sorry for not being clear," the brunette said nervously. "I didn't mean to confuse you or mislead you. I… I meant that kiss. I like you a lot."

Fleur was silent. Hermione did not dare to turn her head to look at the blonde.

"I've been afraid," Hermione continued. "I was afraid you only kissed me back because you didn't want to hurt my feelings. I was also afraid of my own feelings. I was afraid that I was having feelings for you. I mean, why me? You could have someone better, with more – "

Hermione could not finish her sentence, as Fleur's lips were upon hers. It was gentle and chaste, full of understanding, devotion, and a hint of yearning.

"I'm sorry for losing my temper," Fleur murmured, her warm eyes dancing lovingly. Hermione swore she was melting into those eyes.

"I'm not fragile, Fleur," replied Hermione, smiling shyly. "I'd rather you tell me how you feel than treat me as if I might break at any time."

"Only if you're willing to tell me how you feel too," the blonde teased gently.

Hermione nodded hesitantly, and Fleur noticed this.

"Take your time, don't rush," the blonde said.

They lied on the jetty, with Hermione's head resting on Fleur's shoulder. They stared at the orange evening skies, the sun lazily taking its sweet time to go to its next destination.

"I am jobless, Fleur," Hermione whispered, listening to Fleur's steady breaths. "I quit the Ministry right before I disappeared to here."

"Everyone knows that, Hermione," Fleur said gently. "It was quite a big shock that the Golden Girl quit the Ministry. For nearly a month the Daily Prophet wouldn't stop writing articles about it, making wild speculations from you starting your own political party to carving out your own kingdom in the middle of Britain to creating a new cult with massive orgies. "

Hermione chuckled.

"The last one was a close one," the brunette mused. "The orgies, I mean, not the cult. There's no way I'd add more unnecessary responsibilities on myself."

"Would I be given an invitation if you hold orgy parties?" Fleur asked in a light tone.

"No way, everybody would focus on you instead of me the host!"

"Except I would be focusing on you," Fleur murmured and stole a kiss from Hermione's lips.

The brunette cursed Fleur internally for making her blush again.

"You are so cheesy the cows are jealous," grumbled Hermione, eliciting laughter from the blonde. "Anyway, I told Ginny and Harry that I've been working as some sort of secret agent for some government."

"Well, they did mention that your current work is politically sensitive and secret," Fleur said. "It's not a lie, though. If the world finds out your current predicament, depending on who sent those soul killers, it could lead to an international political nightmare."

"And...when did you realise I'm jobless?"

"When I came here, my dear. It's quite obvious, really. There's no usual tell-tale of a working person – workplace footwear, the random books, documents, or notes with information one would only bother to read because of employment, work handbags… Plus you did not seem concerned about what day it was and whether you were late for work or not."

"You did not find it odd?"

Fleur shrugged. "You have your secrets, I have mine. You will tell me when you want to. As I said before, I'm loaded enough so if I sense you're destitute in any way, I can afford things for the both of us."

"Fleur, that's your money, you don't have to do that," Hermione said gently.

"Exactly – that's my money. I can do what I want with it, non?"

Hermione sighed. She sometimes underestimated Fleur's stubbornness.

"Besides," continued the blonde, "I don't want to be full of regrets on my deathbed. I knew I have feelings for you and I just want to put a smile on your face. Money does not matter, not after what I've been through. I want to be happy too. If it means spoiling you with gifts and cuddles, I'll do that. I'm happy when you're happy."

Hermione was rendered speechless again. Here was a person whom she thought was aloof, cold, and rather heartless but apparently unafraid to be in touch with her own heart. Unlike Hermione, Fleur actually learned to live life as if there was no tomorrow from the war. Fleur managed to follow her heart. Hermione was still trapped by her mind.

"Does that bother you?" Fleur asked gently.

"No," Hermione shook her head. "Not really. I'm just…amazed that you follow your heart, not your mind."

Fleur laughed.

"Oh, but I do follow my mind too, Hermione. I just decide which feelings of my heart that I want to follow. My heart likes you. I decide to follow. My mind thinks of things of which to make you happy. I decide to follow that as well."

Hermione did not know how to answer that and pulled Fleur tighter in her arms.

"It's my turn, I think," Fleur said softly. The skies were getting darker. "After the divorce, I cut off contact with my family with the exceptions of my sister. No particular reason, except that I felt suffocated. My family is full of love and kindness, don't get me wrong, but I don't know how to explain it. Wait, I lie. My family believes that you should only marry you true love and that marriage lasts forever. Understandably, they were unhappy with my divorce with Bill. My parents insisted that I must do everything to prevent my ex from walking off to meditate in the mountains."

Hermione shifted and looked at Fleur, whose expression was grim.

"No matter how much both Bill and I explained to my family, they would not accept that I would be the first in the family's long history to get a divorce. Never mind the fact that Bill was struggling with his inner demons and did not even have the energy to deal with a failing relationship. Never mind the fact that I myself has changed, that I, like Bill, understood that there's nothing we could do to salvage our marriage, that countless times I nearly lost it when both my parents and Molly asked when the hell would we give them grandchildren. So after the divorce, I refused to see my parents and they till now have no idea where I live. I did not tell Gabrielle for fear they might force her to spill, but from time to time I do meet my sister. I just… I just wanted them to support me instead of being harsh about it."

Fleur gave Hermione a small smile and kissed the brunette's forehead.

"They knew the war affected me, but they still think that I can just dust myself off, get up on my feet, and walk cheerfully again as if nothing happened. It's a good thing I cut off contact, because my sister told me they were looking for healers and therapists and whatnots to try to bring me and my ex together."

"Is divorce such a bad thing to your family?"

Fleur nodded.

"Yes. They can be a die-hard romantic at times, but that is not necessarily a good thing. I've got cousins whose marriages were arranged and are unhappy but they can't do a thing about it for fear both sides would be looked down by the society. They believe in the notion that Veela mate for life but that's just a legend, a fairy tale, meant to make us look like better lovers in other people's eyes. You love who you love, and just like you can't help who you fall for, you also can't help when the feelings just fade away without warning, without rhyme and reason."

Hermione was thankful her parents would not meddle with her love life.

 _Well, it's not that they won't, but they can't, since they don't even know you exist_ , she thought gloomily.

"I haven't searched for my parents," Hermione admitted, sighing. "I don't want them to see what kind of person I've become. I don't think I can deal to see disappointment, sadness and regret in their eyes. I don't think they can handle the fact that I'm now… broken."

Fleur wrapped her arms around Hermione, giving comfort.

"We'll get rid of the soul killers soon, Hermione. Then after that, when you're ready, we'll go and hunt for your parents. I'll be with you and I promise you everything will be okay."

Hermione nodded. She wanted to hope, to believe, but her situation was just too hopeless. But it was nice to dream of it.

"Thank you, Fleur, I appreciate it."

"It's a pleasure, Hermione, it's my pleasure," the blonde murmured. "Anyway, we should limit our daily sad talks. This negativity will just be hurting you more and you deserve happiness. So, what would you like to do for your birthday?"

Hermione's mind went blank. Birthday? She frowned, trying hard to remember. Fleur released her embrace and tilted Hermione's chin to look into the blonde's eyes.

"Don't tell me you don't remember the concept of birthdays?" teased Fleur gently.

"I do know what a birthday is," Hermione swatted Fleur's arm playfully. "Um what's the date today? I have no idea. It's been a long time since I need to know the dates and days of the week."

Fleur chuckled. "It's your birthday tomorrow, silly."

Hermione blinked. Time had flown so quickly. Then she was hit by a realization.

"Oh my goodness!" she exclaimed in horror. "I've totally forgotten everybody's birthdays! I did not wish Harry and Ginny happy birthdays! And I don't even know when your birthday is, Fleur! Merlin, I'm such a horrible friend and an equally horrible girlfriend – wait, am I your girlfriend?"

Fleur laughed. "Only if I'm yours." Her eyes were dancing in mirth.

Hermione felt her heart soared. Fleur was telling her explicitly that she could call the blonde as hers. _Hers_. That was…a nice feeling. To be wanted by someone whom she wanted badly. Hermione looked into Fleur's warm ones and knew the blonde hid nothing from her. Such perfection willingly traversed the murky waters of Hermione's life and found it lovely enough to stay. The brunette suddenly regretted not memorizing beautiful love poems. Offering them to Fleur at times like these would be perfect.

"I… I don't know what to say," Hermione managed. She truly did not know how to respond to Fleur's words. She was overjoyed, nervous, and slightly scared of the possibilities.

"You don't have to say anything, silly," Fleur murmured, capturing Hermione's lips in hers.

The brunette found herself grinning rather shyly. She could get used to this.

"I don't know what you see in me, but I'll do my best to make you happy," promised Hermione. Fleur deserved it. A woman willing enough to bear with the brunette's troubles deserved a perfect world.

"I see a beautiful soul, Hermione," Fleur replied earnestly, "and it would bring me great joy if you allow me to make _you_ happy."

Hermione blushed. One of these days she'd get diabetes from Fleur's sweet words. She bet Fleur would taste as sweet too. That thought brought all the heat to her face.

 _Goddamn it woman, get your mind out of the gutter!_ Hermione kicked herself mentally.

Fortunately, the object of her momentary perversion did not realise what was going on in her head.

"Well, so um, when is your birthday, Fleur? I am so sorry to not even know it," Hermione changed topic quickly to prevent herself from blurting out embarrassing thoughts. She had been so self-absorbed that she disregarded people's special days. It was a wonder that Harry and Ginny had not murdered her yet, and marveled at the redhead's self control for not demanding a birthday present. Perhaps they instinctively knew that Hermione was struggling with her inner self. The next time she went to their place, she would bring a belated birthday present for them both, Hermione promised to herself. They had been very patient with her. The least she could do was to remember their special days.

"Now, now, that would be telling," Fleur grinned mischievously. "I know you like mystery, so I'd rather you figure it out for yourself. But you can't try to figure it out until after your birthday, because I want you to enjoy it to the fullest."

"But – "

"Not buts," Fleur placed a finger on Hermione's lips, preventing the brunette from protesting. "If you have nothing specific in mind, would it be alright for me to plan something for you?"

Suddenly Hermione was nervous. And a little bit excited. It had been a long time since someone wanted to organize something for her birthday.

"I promise it will be fun, relaxing, and does not involve a million people," Fleur said gently.

"Okay," Hermione said hesitantly. "But don't make me dress up."

"It's a deal then."

For the first time since ages, Hermione was looking forward to a tomorrow.

She could not stop grinning.


	8. A Birthday

_**Hi everyone! Another week has flown by and so here's another chapter.**_

 _ **I noticed that there are quite many readers in Australia. So I'd like to take this chance to make an announcement/promotion:**_

 ** _There will be a national Quidditch tournament (QUAFL) from 9-11 Dec 2016 at the AIS (Australian Institute of Sports) in Canberra. 24 top teams from across the country will be taking part, featuring players who won the 2016 Quidditch World Cup. If you're going to be around, please come! It's a free event (yay). And if anyone here is planning to visit Australia, do drop by Canberra on those dates. There will be Kidditch too for children to try out this sport, so you can bring the whole family along!_**

 ** _Thank you for reading the short paragraph above._**

 ** _Without further ado, here's the chapter. I hope you enjoy it._**

 ** _Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._**

* * *

What would constitute a perfect day? For Hermione, it used to be a day where she did not get any attack. A great day would be where she did not have to resort to substances to deal with the pain. A good day would be where each attack lasted less than half an hour. And an okay day would be where she could sleep for a few hours at night.

But since Fleur's arrival, Hermione felt her days were perfect, even when the attacks were impossibly excruciating. True, there were hiccups now and then, mostly due to her unwillingness to trust Fleur even a little, but overall, the past few months had been great for the brunette. So how amazing her birthday would be?

Hermione could not sleep; the excitement and anxiety encouraging a million thoughts flooding her mind. She was snuggled in her bed, enveloped in Fleur's warm arms, yet she was still awake even after hours of listening the blonde's steady breathing. Hermione did not dare to toss and turn, fearing to awaken the witch next to her.

Knowing Fleur, she would plan an extravagantly romantic day that would turn anyone to mush. There was no way she would allow Hermione to be holed up in the house all day long. Although truth be told, Hermione was perfectly happy to spend her birthday cuddling with Fleur, doing nothing.

What was Fleur planning? Would she be throwing a party? Fleur did promise Hermione would not be interacting with many people but that meant the blonde did plan on throwing some sort of party. Should Hermione mention that she'd rather it be a party for just the two of them? Would Fleur take offense at that? What would the brunette wear? Should they go shopping first? But she hated shopping.

It was dawn when Hermione finally fall asleep, exhausted by her own active mind. She did not rest for long though, for Fleur awoken her at exactly nine thirty in the morning, kissing her gently until she opened her eyes.

"Good morning, sleepy head, it's time to rise and shine," Fleur gently pinched the brunette's nose who extricated herself from Fleur's grips.

In retaliation, Hermione made to tickle Fleur but the blonde was too quick for the half-awake brunette. Hermione found herself being tickled to death instead.

"Alright, I give!" Hermione gasped between laughter. "I give! It's your victory!"

"I don't believe in mercy, birthday girl."

"Fleur! I admit defeat!"

Fleur laughed and released Hermione. The blonde gave Hermione a quick peck and murmured, "Happy birthday, drool-face. You're a big girl now."

"I did not drool!" Hermione protested indignantly.

"My pyjamas beg to differ," there was a twinkle in Fleur's eyes.

"That's your drool, not mine," denied the brunette. "You've been staring at me too much."

"That's what eyes are for, Hermione," Fleur said sagely. "To stare at perfection."

Hermione blushed. If she ended up permanently looking like a tomato Fleur was to be blamed. The blonde chuckled and ruffled the brunette's hair.

"Come on, sleepy head. We have things to do and places to go to."

Hermione looked at Fleur, taking note of what the blonde was wearing: black boots, black jeans, white blouse and leather jacket. Seemed casual enough. Which meant Fleur was not dragging her to some kind of tiring and extravagant event.

"I'm flattered that you're trying to undress me but we really have to go, darling," Fleur chuckled.

Hermione's face instantly turned into a fine shade of red.

"I wasn't thinking of that," the brunette sputtered out.

She jumped out of bed and ran into the bathroom, accompanied by Fleur's laughter. Damn that blonde.

Hermione was apprehensive but excited at the same time. It took Fleur thrice yelling at her from outside the bathroom door to get the brunette to step out of the shower (the third time yelling, Fleur threatened to blast the door off and dress Hermione in pink tutus with her own hands – that did the trick and got the brunette to dress up in record time).

Hermione was grumbling for a full five minutes at Fleur before the grinning blonde held out her hand and simply said, "Shall we?"

The grin melted Hermione's heart. Her irritation at being threatened disappeared. Who could stay mad at Fleur? Well, many people most likely, but Hermione was not one of them.

Hermione took Fleur's outstretched hand, marvelled at the warmth it exuded, and held it tight. She felt the familiar tug of Apparation and within moments, they Apparated at a very familiar place.

As it was still rather early in the morning and school was on, Diagon Alley was rather quiet. Hermione was thankful for that but realized that should the paparazzi appeared, it would be difficult to lose them in this nearly non-existent crowd. Fleur somehow noticed her discomfort and put a reassuring arm around the brunette.

"I went to this restaurant by accident a couple of years ago and it became my favourite," Fleur said as she led them walk along the streets, toward the quieter, upscale part of town. "For an establishment located in the pish-poshy area, they're very friendly and relaxed."

Hermione laughed. Fleur gave her a questioning look.

"You said pish-poshy," the brunette chuckled. "It's cute."

"Are you telling me that some random words are cuter than me?" Fleur pretended to pout.

"Yes, because you're beautiful, not simply cute," replied Hermione, grinning.

"Nice try, but I don't blush easily."

Hermione punched Fleur's arm playfully, eliciting laughter from the blonde. They continued walking, navigating the streets that were slowly filled with people. Several passers-by looked at them in surprise but otherwise left them alone. Hermione felt self-conscious and wished she remembered to disguise herself. She had forgotten that the _Daily Prophet_ ran a regular section for each war hero's birthdays. As if just to make a point, they passed a large banner of a waving Hermione with the words 'Happy Birthday To The Most Brilliant Witch Of Her Age'. Fleur protectively pulled her arm around Hermione tighter, giving deathly glares to anyone who tried to approach them.

After what seemed to be an excruciating eternity, they finally stopped in front of a maroon building with the signboard that said 'Four Corners'. There was already a queue and Hermione felt self-conscious with her simple attire. But Fleur did not give her time to dwell on her thoughts. The blonde smiled and nodded to the usher and they were allowed through, to the annoyance of those waiting in line.

"I did make a booking, so I don't know what they're grumbling about," shrugged Fleur when Hermione gave her a questioning look. The brunette was relieved to know that Fleur did not use her Veela thrall just to get them inside.

They climbed to the second floor and from across the room, Ginny and Harry waved at them. Hermione grinned. She did miss her friends.

"I hope you don't mind to have them both join us for breakfast," Fleur asked quietly, looking slightly nervous.

"No, Fleur, I appreciate it. Thank you," smiled the brunette, squeezing Fleur's hand in assurance.

An impatient Ginny slid out of her chair and hugged Hermione tightly, squeezing the poor brunette to death.

"You are so freaking old today! I can't believe it!"

"And she won't be getting older if you insist on squeezing the life out of her, dear."

Hermione gave Harry a grateful look for coming to her rescue.

"Always playing the hero," Ginny grumbled but released the death grip she had on the brunette.

Through it all, Fleur just stood back and watched them with an amused expression on her face.

"As much as I am enjoying this entertainment, shall we head to our table before we get kicked out of this place for being a nuisance?" the blonde asked in a light tone.

"That would be Harry's fault for bothering his beautiful wife," the redhead commented, dragging Hermione to the table.

The man in question raised his hands in surrender.

"I will make it up to you tonight, dearest."

Hermione groaned and covered her ears with her palms.

"Guys, please! Don't give me nightmares!"

"Oh? I thought you enjoyed watching us having at it the other night?" Ginny asked with an innocent face.

Hermione, who was in the process of sitting on the chair that Fleur pulled for her, turned red.

"It was an accident!"

"Fleur, just so you know, my dear bookworm friend here is actually a pervert," Ginny told Fleur in a loud whisper.

Hermione glared at the redhead.

"Well," Fleur replied in an equally loud whisper, "why do you think I like her?"

Hermione gave Fleur a disbelieving look. Ginny laughed gleefully.

"Oh my! Is she _that_ good in bed, Fleur? You _must_ tell me!"

"Well _I_ don't want to have nightmares," muttered Harry, reading the menu.

"Now, now, that would be telling," Fleur winked at Ginny.

Hermione buried her head in her hands and groaned.

"Kill me now," she muttered.

Hermione was secretly pleased that Fleur invited both Harry and Ginny for breakfast. It had been a very long time since the brunette hung out with her two best friends outside of Grimmauld Place. She felt carefree and could forget her current problems, even if only for a little while.

Their little breakfast went smoothly, filled with laughter and teasing (Hermione had forgotten how much the redhead loved to tease Hermione. The brunette swore she would not be in the same room with both Ginny and Fleur in future – when both of them team up, they were horrible).

"Well ladies, as much as I hate it, I have to leave for work," Harry said reluctantly, checking his pocket watch. "Meetings and more meetings."

"Thank you for skipping the morning for me, Harry." Hermione rose from her seat and gave him a hug.

"I won't trade it for the world."

"Come on, give me a hug too, I have to return for practice," Ginny opened her arms wide, waiting for Hermione. "The only reason the coach and Pansy allowed me to skip the morning is because of your birthday."

"I'm still quite famous, it seems," chuckled Hermione, giving the redhead a hug.

"I'm glad you didn't run away, 'Mione," the redhead whispered softly in Hermione's ear. "She makes you happy, doesn't she? Don't ever let her go or else I'll skin you alive."

Ginny released the hug and said in a normal volume, "Well, see you both tonight! Enjoy yourselves!"

Hermione gave Fleur a questioning look.

"They've invited us for dinner tonight, I hope you don't mind?"

The brunette shook her head. She linked her hand with Fleur's.

The blonde led her out of the establishment without paying. When Hermione realised this, she stopped and tugged at Fleur to return to the restaurant.

"I asked them to put it on my tab," Fleur grinned. "I don't want you to figure the prices out."

"You don't have to do that, Fleur! I can pay for it," the brunette protested.

"Hermione, you gave me permission to make plans for your birthday. Please, don't worry about it, alright?"

Hermione looked at Fleur who was giving her puppy eyes. The brunette sighed. Fleur would be the death of her some day. Fleur gave her a quick peck on the forehead as thanks. Hermione's face reddened, aware that some people noticed it and started to whisper among themselves.

"So uh, where are we going next?" Hermione tried to keep her voice calm, not wanting Fleur to notice her discomfort.

"Ready to Apparate away?"

Hermione took a deep breath and nodded. She hated Apparating right after a meal – the contents of her stomach would be threatening to spill out all the time. It was a common issue for those Apparating.

Fleur held her hand tightly and within moments, they disappeared from Diagon Alley and Apparated amongst tall trees in an empty and quiet area. Hermione looked around and did not recognize their location.

"Where are we, Fleur?"

"Some random park nearby our destination," muttered the blonde, trying to tidy her hair. "Is my hair okay?"

"You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen, Fleur," Hermione said quietly.

She then blushed and kicked herself mentally. Fleur noticed it and chuckled. The blonde put herself between Hermione and a rather large tree, using her hands to trap the brunette. Hermione felt her heart started to hammer; the look Fleur gave her was so intense, almost predatory. Hermione hitched her breath when Fleur's nose touched hers.

"The only reason why you say I'm the most beautiful person you've ever seen is because you've never paid attention when you look into the mirror, Hermione."

Hermione watched Fleur's lips moving as the blonde spoke. The brunette was entranced by the graceful, seductive movement. She wrapped her arms around Fleur's neck and gazed into the blonde's intense eyes.

"Do you know what happens when two beautiful people meet?" Hermione asked.

Without waiting for an answer, Hermione kissed Fleur, hungrily claiming those luscious lips. She pulled the blonde toward her, leaving no space in between. The flip her stomach did made her realise that all these time, she was actually having butterflies for Fleur. Why did she not notice it sooner, during their previous kisses?

When Hermione released Fleur, the blonde looked dazed, somewhat breathless.

"You haven't given me a birthday kiss yet," grinned the brunette mischievously.

Fleur chuckled. "Pardon my tardiness, milady."

"All forgiven, Fleur, all forgiven. So, where are we again?"

"Ah, yes. I've nearly forgotten. Well, let me show you."

Fleur led her through the trees and after a couple of minutes of walking Hermione could hear sounds of a crowd and what suspiciously was the traffic. She frowned. Last time she checked, wizards in general were still not using muggle vehicles.

"I hope you like theme park," Fleur said anxiously, watching Hermione for the brunette's expression.

Hermione's jaw dropped. There, in front of her, was the entrance to a theme park, with schoolchildren in uniform lining up for entry.

"I tried to pick one with as few people as possible but it seems a school decided to come for an outing to this place. But I can assure you that they're all muggles."

Hermione turned around and looked at Fleur.

"How did you find this place, Fleur? More importantly, how do you know even know what a theme park is?"

"I overheard some Hufflepuffs discussing about it during the Triwizard," shrugged Fleur. "So I researched it and dragged my sister to one in France and it was quite fun. Do you like it?"

Hermione hugged Fleur.

"Thank you, Fleur. It's wonderful." She had not been in one for so many years.

"I'm glad to know that. Shall we?"

Hermione was very impressed when Fleur paid for their entrance with muggle money. The blonde did not even struggle with the currency! Noticing this, Fleur whispered to Hermione, "The secret is to give the biggest denomination. It works every time." The brunette rolled her eyes at that. Of course.

Hermione had the time of her life at the theme park. Anonymity made it better – nobody gave them a second look. Well, men were still giving Fleur second and third looks but that was because of Fleur's thrall, not because of they recognize either of them.

They rode most of the available rides (Fleur refused to go on the roller coaster and any ride that she deemed too dangerous – she claimed that as open-minded as she was to all things non-magical, she still would not entrust her life on a lifeless object. Hermione's argument of them having wands went on deaf ears.) As Fleur bought them the VIP tickets, they did not need to queue behind the numerous and boisterous school children. Hermione ate the cotton candy, feeling slightly guilty to be eating sugar and silently apologizing to her dentist parents for doing such a sinful thing.

Fleur was thoroughly amused when seeing the pictures they took in the picture booth were not moving at all, and that there were weird frames as well as images. Hermione tried to explain to the blonde that they were digital 'enhancements', to make the pictures more interesting. Unsurprisingly, Fleur's favourite picture was of Hermione's face being weirdly compressed.

"This is the picture of you that I shall carry everywhere I go," declared the blonde.

"What if you ever get short-term memory loss? How would I be able to convince you that the person in that photo and me are the same?" asked Hermione exasperatedly.

"Even when my mind is gone, my heart will know who you are to me, my dear." Fleur swooped down and stole a kiss from Hermione.

"You're impossible," grumbled the brunette, but could not keep the grin off her face.

Before she knew it, evening was approaching and the theme park was closing. Time flied too quickly to Hermione's liking and she wished she still had the Time-Turner – she did not want this day to ever end. They walked toward the park again, hand in hand, and went to a deserted area to Apparate away to Grimmauld Place.

Fleur knocked and they heard Ginny yelled "It's not locked" from the inside. As they went in, the aroma of food attacked Hermione's sense of smell. The brunette felt her mouth watered and her stomach loudly declared its hunger.

"I thought only the Weasleys are capable of making such sounds," Fleur chuckled.

"Hermione's practically family, Fleur," Ginny appeared from the kitchen, bringing a tray of wine and glasses for them. "As an honorary Weasley, her stomach has to keep up with tradition. It won't be long, 'Mione. Here, fill your delicate tummy with some elvish wine."

Hermione accepted the proffered glass with a skeptical look.

"You do realise that drinking on an empty stomach will get you drunk quickly?"

"That's the plan, woman. Why else would I offer you wine while you're starving?"

"Between you and her, I don't know who is worse," Hermione told Fleur as Ginny returned to the kitchen.

"It must be Ginny, 'cause you're dating me," Fleur said as-a-matter-of-factly.

Hermione tickled Fleur. "You're too arrogant for your own good, missy."

Fleur, competitive by nature, retaliated. They tumbled over each other on the carpet, shrieking with laughter. Hermione managed to pin Fleur on the floor, but the blonde kissed Hermione with such passion that the brunette slackened her grip.

"Huh, you guys are dating."

Hermione and Fleur broke their kiss and turned their necks to see a surprised Harry staring at them.

"Don't tell me you actually did not realise it this morning, husband dear?" Ginny asked in an exasperated tone, carrying a dish with steam coming out of it.

"Well, I thought you guys were just fooling around. I mean, girls are always fooling around."

Both Ginny and Hermione rolled their eyes. Harry was still as oblivious as ever. Some things just never changed.

Fleur helped Hermione to get on her feet and pulled the brunette close, wrapping her arms around the brunette's waist from the back. The blonde rested her chin on Hermione's head.

"Yes, Harry, we're dating," Fleur declared softly. "I trust that this is not a problem?"

"Oh no, no, I have no problem with it," Harry shook his head. "I was just wasn't expecting Hermione to be in a relationship with anyone, considering her hectic schedule and secrecy due to her job."

"Does the fact that they've been living together for several months said nothing to you, dear?" Ginny asked, her face a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

"Well, I thought they were just roommates," shrugged Harry. "I'm sorry I didn't notice it sooner, Hermione. But congratulations, I'm happy that you're back in the game. Although Fleur, I have to warn you, if you hurt her…"

"I myself will kick her lovely behind to oblivion, Harry." Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry would never stop being overprotective.

"Don't kick her lovely behind too far, 'Mione, I swear that ass is a rare find," Ginny quipped as she set the final dish on the table.

Fleur laughed.

"Well anyway, food's ready," Ginny announced. "Shall we?"

Ginny really did go all-out with her cooking, pulling no punches. She made roasted chicken, Mongolian lamb, thai green fish curry, roasted pumpkin, stir fried broccoli, spaghetti bolognaise, beef steak, and spicy fried rice.

"Don't forget to save some space for dessert," Ginny informed them.

"Uh… What's the theme, Gin?" Hermione tried to make sense of the food in front of her eyes.

"The theme is your birthday, 'Mione," Ginny started to heaped food on Hermione's plate. The brunette watched as the odd assortment of dishes coming together in harmony in front of her eyes. "I couldn't decide on the theme, so I just cooked whatever struck my fancy."

"This is not too bad, 'Mione," Harry said as he mixed the curry with the spaghetti on his plate, putting a spoonful in his mouth. "Once you ignore the fact that they're not quite…compatible and just focus on the taste, they're very delicious."

"Harry's right." Fleur seemed to be enjoying her pile of oddity, chewing with passion. "Taste-wise, they're delicious. By the way, you have to give me the recipe for this chicken, Ginny. I keep on forgetting to ask."

"Eat up, 'Mione darling," Ginny said encouragingly. "They'll all be mixed in your stomach anyway."

Hermione had no idea what she had done in her previous life to deserve such strange companions. She braved herself and ate a small piece of steak with the pasta and curry in one mouthful. As weird as it was, she found the mixture to be a delight. Hermione then realised something.

"Your cooking has improved a lot, Gin!"

"It's been nearly two years since you tasted my cooking, 'Mione," Ginny said quietly.

The silence that followed was uncomfortable. Hermione felt guilty for disappearing. True, she did come back and hung out with them in Grimmauld Place occasionally but they usually ordered takeaways or Hermione would bring some food over.

"So, how long have you guys been together?" Harry asked, changing topics. Hermione silently thanked him.

"Officially, we've been together since yesterday," Fleur answered.

Ginny raised an eyebrow at Hermione, who suddenly found that the glass of water in her hands was fascinating.

"Unofficially?" Harry asked.

"Since the day we slept together," grinned the blonde with a twinkle in her eye.

Hermione choked on her drink.

"Merlin, 'Mione! You caught the right fish!" Ginny howled with laughter.

"Fleur!" Hermione protested amongst her coughs. "Now you're making them misunderstand your sentence!"

"We're all adults, 'Mione, there's nothing wrong to talk about adult things," teased Harry.

"Not you too, Harry!" groaned the brunette.

"Sleeping, especially with another person, is a healthy activity, don't you agree 'Mione?" Ginny asked with a mischievous face.

"We didn't have sex, guys," huffed the brunette.

"We never said that," Ginny laughed. "I thought we were discussing about you know, sleeping?"

Hermione groaned and continued eating her food, ignoring the incoming teasing. One day, she swore she would find the perfect way to tease them. One day.

Hermione had never eaten so much in her whole life, not even when she was staying over at the Burrows. Mrs. Weasley and her legendary feeding abilities lost to Ginny's. Somehow the redhead managed to get Hermione to keep on adding more to her plate. By the time the night was over, the brunette would be gaining five kilos.

Just as Hermione was silently celebrating clearing out her fifth serving, the fireplace burst into life. Green fire flared, signaling the arrival of someone. All of them looked at the fireplace.

"Are we expecting anyone?" Ginny asked Harry.

He shrugged. "Aside from Fleur and Hermione, no."

Moments later a figure stepped out of the Floo, yelling out, "Hey Harry can I borrow your dragon hide jacket? I have a date with Luna tomorrow and I misplaced mine somewhere. I think it's in the – " Ronald Weasley stopped his sentence when he realised Fleur and Hermione were there.

Ron stared at them and his face reddened. Hermione recognized that classic expression of rage of his.

"I can't believe this!" Ron pointed his finger in their general direction. "You… you! What are you doing here? You left without a word, without a trace. Now you dare to show your face around here, going to my sister's wedding as if nothing's happened, and eat at her house as if everything's alright?"

Fleur was the first to react. She drew her wand and pointed it at Ron threateningly. "Mr. Weasley, I suggest you stop pointing your finger at Hermione and talk in a calm manner or else I'll hex you into next week."

Ron stared at Fleur disbelievingly but lowered his finger. An angry Fleur was a feral Fleur. Besides, before Ron could draw his wand, Fleur would be shooting several hexes.

"I am under no obligation to announce my appearance to you, Ronald," Hermione said angrily.

"I prefer it if you don't shout at my guests, Ron," Ginny hissed.

Harry approached Ron and put himself between the angry man and the three equally angry ladies.

"I can't believe that you'd do this to me, Hermione!"

"We broke up, Ron. You can't control my movements!"

"I thought we were friends!" Ron yelled, half-crying. "Did you know how worried I was when you left without a trace? Even Harry and his Auror training could not figure out where you were. We were all so worried. Yes, I was devastated and angry that you broke up with me but that's the past. I've moved on. But I thought I was still your best friend. I was wrong. I mean nothing to you anymore, Hermione. I mean nothing to you anymore, Harry. Apparently I'm no longer part of the trio."

Ron turned and disappeared back into the Floo, to the Burrow.

Hermione buried her head in her hands. Ron's words shook her. She did not realise the impact her silent appearance would cause on him. She was so focused on herself that she forgot the friends around her hurt when she was hurt. Ron was one of her oldest friends. Ron used to be more than just her best friend too. They went through so much yet she ignored him, putting him in a place like everybody else.

 _But none of the deserved to be told_ , part of her reasoned. _They thought you were insane, remember? He has no right._

The brunette felt Fleur's comforting arms around her.

"Did I hurt you too, Harry? Ginny?" Hermione asked softly.

"I'm sure you have your reasons, 'Mione," Harry said quietly, kneeling next to the brunette. "Besides, I understand the importance of secrecy to your work."

"Just ignore what my idiotic brother said, 'Mione. I'll set him straight later," Ginny sounded thoroughly pissed.

Hermione bit her lower lip, keeping tight the truth that was threatening to spill from her mouth. She kept on reminding herself that Harry and Ginny would be so hurt if they knew she had been lying to them, that she had been hiding from them.

The laughter came again.

 _No, not now please_ , Hermione silently pleaded. The day had been passing wonderfully. Why now? Why could it not wait till at least after her birthday was over?

A little girl's voice spoke, reading passages from the Book of Enoch. Accompanying that were voices of two old men mourning the death of their wives, and a group of teenagers angrily debating on which seat they should take.

Fleur seemed to sense the attack and swiftly excused themselves from Grimmauld Place. Hermione allowed herself to be taken home, distractedly saying her goodbyes to Harry and Ginny. Hermione's head was starting to hurt and she sweated. She felt as if her head was being slowly cooked over low fire.

As soon as they reached home, Fleur carried her to the jetty and hopped on to the raft.

The pain only subsided when Fleur hummed next to Hermione, arms around the brunette, lying on a mattress on the raft under the clear night skies. The heat and most of the pain were gone. Only a steady but soft pounding remained in her head.

Hermione let Fleur's humming ushered her to the dream land.


	9. That Pink Thing

_**Hi everyone! Here's another chapter. I hope you're enjoying the story.**_

 _ **JK Rowling owns Harry Potter.**_

 ** _Many apologies for all mistakes in advance._**

* * *

Hermione groaned softly. Her head was throbbing madly and her body was in some kind of fiery pain. Her throat was parched. There was a heavy weight on her torso. And that heavy weight was rambling whispers in her ears. She opened her eyes slowly, expecting to be bombarded by bright lights but was relieved to meet darkness. As the brunette's eyes adjusted to the dimness, she turned her head slowly to check what that weird weight was.

Her heart froze in terror.

A pale, tall woman, with curly black hair and rotting teeth, dressed in an extremely tight corset was sitting atop Hermione, hunched over, hands busy working on the brunette's arm. The woman's eyes glittered with madness and unadulterated cruelty. It was then Hermione registered the excruciating pain on her arm and she watched in horror as Bellatrix Lestrange happily carved Hermione's arm with a dagger.

"This is beautiful, isn't it, little Muddykins?" cackled the insane Death Eater in a sing-song voice, noticing Hermione had awoken. "You're such a special Mudblood, getting this big scary Death Eater to make your worthless skin pretty."

Tears streamed from Hermione's eyes. She could not move. She could not say anything. She could only watch helplessly as her eyes were locked on to the gruesome sight.

This was not real. This could not be happening again. Bellatrix was dead, and Hermione did kick the Death Eater's lifeless body once in Hogwarts' Great Hall after the battle was over. Voldemort had died. The war was over.

Where was Fleur? Why was Hermione having this nightmare? Why did _Bellatrix Lestrange_ , of all people, had to be the one that appeared in her dreams tonight? Where were the usual annoying voices? Hermione was willing to have a night full of those insane voices just to keep the Death Eater away from her dreams.

"Aw, little Muddykins is speechless," drawled the Death Eater. She deliberately pushed the tip of the dagger deeper into Hermione's arm, increasing the intensity of the pain. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll love this beautiful carving I'm gifting you."

 _Get away from me,_ Hermione wanted to scream. _Get out from my dreams!_

But Hermione could not even make a sound. She watched as a cackling Bellatrix ran the dagger from Hermione's wrist to the neck. The pain was blinding and the brunette wished she would black out from it. But she did not.

"It's quiet, isn't it, Muddy?" Bellatrix asked conversationally. "Everyone is chasing after your two Mudblood-loving friends. They left you, Muddykins. _Left you_." She giggled. "Aren't you glad I'm considerate enough to keep you company?"

So Ron and Harry left her alone with a deranged Death Eater. Hermione knew it was not real but she could not help feeling betrayed. She was crushed. Logically, she knew it was good, because Harry was safe and could continue their mission. Wait – the real logical thing was to not feel sad at all because _this was just a dream_.

"You're dead," Hermione managed to croak out.

Bellatrix looked into Hermione's eyes and smiled coldly. The insanity in the Death Eater's eyes was gone, replaced by calculating looks.

"Your time is coming soon," Bellatrix told her. Somehow Hermione knew that it was not actually Bellatrix who was talking. It was someone, or something else. The brunette shivered involuntarily. Bellatrix's face was merely inches from the brunette's, flashing a set of rotting teeth, voice dropped low, menacing. Her voice was split into several different voices. "When the roots dry up and the flesh drops off, we will devour you." The Death Eater started to cackle madly.

"I won't lose to you," Hermione hissed, determined. "I will find out who did this to me and I will destroy you."

"You can't even fight by yourself properly," Bellatrix sneered. "You've already lost your friends. That redhead and her husband will follow suit. You will also be the reason why your skanky girlfriend leaves you. And then, you will submit yourself to us and we will enjoy devouring your soul inch by inch."

Bellatrix stabbed the dagger into Hermione's wrist and slowly pulled it toward the shoulder. The brunette screamed in agony.

"Tick tock," the Death Eater sang softly. "Tick tock."

"Tick tock."

With a swift movement, the deranged woman pulled out the dagger and stabbed Hermione's eyes.

The brunette screamed.

Then all was black.

* * *

"You're finally awake."

Hermione jerked up, only to fall on the bed again. The speaker rushed to her side, helping to adjust her body into a more comfortable position.

"You're very weak, Hermione." The face that Hermione greatly disliked stared at the brunette with concern in her eyes. "Don't force yourself."

Hermione groaned internally. Mildred's was not the face she wanted to see after a particularly horrible nightmare.

"Fleur?" Hermione's throat was parched dry. It hurt to talk. Noticing this, Mildred Accio-ed a glass of water and helped Hermione to drink, who grudgingly accepted the aid.

"Fleur's just in the bathroom," Mildred explained, putting the glass away. "She hasn't showered in the past few days, insisting to be with you. You won't believe how stinky she is. Ugh. I had to threaten her that I won't help you unless and until she scrubs herself clean. If her fans know how disgusting that girl can be, they'll definitely disperse. Oh, wait – they'll think it is a sweet and romantic thing to stoically watch over her girlfriend without showering and barely eating anything."

As Mildred continued to ramble on, Hermione tuned out and frowned. A few days without showering? What the heck was Mildred talking about?

The brunette slowly looked around and realised she was not in her home. Judging from the furniture and the tacky painting on the wall of a duck eating an apple, Hermione guessed she was in Mildred's latest rented room. The brunette wanted to go home, to her sanctuary. With Fleur.

"What happened?" Hermione cut Mildred's rambling.

The other witch placed a palm on Hermione's forehead. "No more fever, that's always a good sign," she mumbled, to Hermione's irritation. Mildred seemed to be having different personalities every time the brunette met her. Well, just two personalities: skanky and annoying. Today the annoying side was out.

"Can you stop touching me?" growled the brunette. She tried to shrug off Mildred's palm but Hermione was too weak.

"Four nights ago, Fleur barged in with you in her arms," Mildred ignored Hermione's request. "I thought there were intruders and nearly killed you both but fortunately I was drunk enough that my reaction was slow. You were flailing about, screaming yourself hoarse, and was having high fever."

Hermione was shocked. Four nights? Her nightmare did not seem to take that long.

"Fleur told me that you were having a disagreement with a friend," continued Mildred. "That affected your mood and as a result, you were open for attacks. I did warn you both that you have to avoid any negative emotions." Hermione felt indignant at the I-told-you-so looks given by Mildred. But the witch did not give the brunette any chance to defend herself. "However, by attacking you like ravenous pigs, the soul killers lowered their guards and I was able to track the witch who sent them."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Witch?"

Mildred nodded her head. "Yes, a witch. Now, I am not telling you yet until Fleur is here. I don't want her to strangle me for telling you without her knowledge and I also need her to calm you down. Anyway, you were screaming a lot for the past few days. What did you see in your dreams?"

Hermione shuddered involuntarily. She did not want to remember her nightmares. It was bad enough to experience it once. Retelling it was worse. But a witch? The brunette crunched her eyebrows, deep in thought. Who did she anger so much to the point of willing to go through all this madness? Was it a Death Eater's wife or daughter?

Quick footsteps pulled Hermione out of her thoughts. Her face lighted up to see Fleur approaching, and a shy smile formed on the brunette's face without her realizing. Fleur kissed Hermione gently on the forehead and took the brunette's hands in hers.

"How are you feeling, Hermione?" The blonde's eyes were filled with concern and worry. Exhaustion was plain evident on her face.

"See, Fleur, I told you that you were stinky," Mildred commented in an amusing tone. Hermione wanted to smack her face. Mildred did not notice this and continued, "Hermione only wakes up once your smelliness is gone."

"Fleur always smells good," Hermione defended the blonde, glaring at Mildred who raised her hands in mock surrender.

"Mildred, please stop agitating Hermione," Fleur said tiredly.

Mildred rolled her eyes. "Both of you are so touchy," she muttered. "Anyway, let's get down to business. The sooner you're both gone, the sooner I can finally sleep undisturbed. So. Fleur, I need you to make Hermione very comfortable."

Wordlessly, Fleur climbed on the bed and gathered Hermione in her arms. The brunette snuggled her head in the crook of Fleur's neck, feeling calmer. Hermione breathed in deeply, inhaling Fleur's comforting scent. Fleur's hair smelled faintly of strawberries – not her usual shampoo. It slightly irritated the brunette, knowing it was Mildred's shampoo, but it was Hermione who was in Fleur's arms, not Mildred.

"Are you comfortable, Hermione?" Fleur asked softly, gently rubbing the brunette's back.

Hermione nodded and closed her eyes. She could purr of happiness. But she did not. That would be embarrassing.

"So," Hermione opened her eyes when Mildred spoke again – the witch was sitting on a chair beside Hermione's bed, "I managed to track down the witch who is the root cause of the evil. I at first did not quite believe it myself, seeing that her family is never involved in the business, but – "

"Stop rambling unnecessarily, woman," growled Fleur. "Who is it?"

Mildred rolled her eyes. "It's impolite to interrupt when someone is speaking, Fleur. But to answer your question, it's Umbridge. Dolores. Umbridge. I believe the name is familiar to you, yeah?"

Hermione was shocked. "Wait – it thought she's in Azkaban? And why the hell would she want to curse me?" After the war, Dolores Umbridge was tried and sentenced to Azkaban for crimes against Muggle-borns.

"She was just released three weeks ago," Mildred sighed. "Just because she's been in jail does not mean she can't conduct business through a proxy."

"She's out? She's not supposed to be released for at least another five years," Hermione was starting to fume, remembering the atrocities Umbridge committed in Hogwarts. Fleur tightened her embrace, preventing the brunette from getting up and marching to the Ministry.

"Just because Voldemort is gone does not mean the Ministry is suddenly clean from corruption, Hermione," Mildred said. "She's released due to 'good behaviour' and other similar crap. I wonder how rich she actually is and who did she bribe."

"Alright," Fleur cut in before Mildred started her rambling and Hermione got so worked up on the news, "so now we know the culprit is that pink thing. Can you start to return these soul killers to her so that Hermione can have a peaceful life?"

"It's not that simple, Fleur," Mildred said tiredly. "I am exhausted at the moment, my energy's drained doing the tracking as well as minimizing damage done to Hermione during her recent attack. Not only that, Hermione herself is in no condition to start the process. She is both physically and emotionally weak. She needs to regain her strength and not drowning in negative emotions. Although there's another way…"

"Which is?" Hermione asked.

"Burn Umbridge," Mildred answered simply. "Once she's burned, the connection will be broken and the soul killers will leave, returning to Umbridge's body to absorb the soul before her soul can pass on to the next destination."

"As much as I hate her, I don't want to burn people to death," Hermione shook her head. She did not want murder on her hands. "But I do want to know what her motives are," she muttered to herself. "This does not make sense. I've got nothing to do with her and vice versa. Haven't seen her for a long time. I've got no business with her even."

"Well, I can't start the cleansing process right now," yawned Mildred. "I need a couple of weeks at least to prepare and regain my strength. Although, I have a feeling it will be useless."

"What do you mean?" Fleur sounded annoyed.

"Because I don't think Umbridge is willing to leave things be and let the soul killers eat her up since it will be considered a failed mission," explained Mildred. "She will redouble her efforts and resend the soul killers again."

"Is burning her the only way?" Hermione was despaired. It was one life or another. It did not sound attractive at all.

Mildred was silent for a moment, pondering. "No, it's not," she answered slowly. "However, at the end of the day, it's either your life or hers."

Hermione frowned. Surely, there was another way that did not involve death?

"You see, as I've explained before, a soul killer will not stop until its goal is achieved," Mildred explained. "In your case, the soul killers were ordered to push you to the brink until you commit suicide. Their reward is your soul. A soul."

"Devour me," Hermione said quietly. "Devour me," she repeated, in a stronger voice. She recalled her nightmare and shivered involuntarily. "It – they – said that."

"Who said that, Hermione?" Fleur asked, worried.

Hermione looked up and met Fleur's concerned gaze. "Bellatrix said that, Fleur. I mean," the brunette took a deep breath to steady her shaking voice, "my nightmare. I had a nightmare. Last night. Or one of the nights that I was unconscious. Bellatrix was torturing me in Malfoy Manor but towards the end, she said that she – well, they – will devour me soon, that my time is nearing. They said something about roots drying up and flesh dropping off."

"When their roots dry up and your flesh drops off they will be devouring you, am I correct?" Mildred asked sharply.

Hermione turned her face toward the witch and nodded. Mildred instantly jumped off the chair and went to rummage her trunk, muttering as she did so.

"Why are you acting up, Mil?" asked Fleur.

"We can't let Hermione's flesh drops off, Fleur," Mildred answered, agitated. "This is bad. Far more advanced than I thought."

"What are you talking about?" the blonde asked.

Mildred triumphantly fished a potion out of her trunk and made Hermione drink it. The brunette wanted to retch at the foul taste.

"When soul killers are attached to you, their roots will try to get as deep to your soul – which is formed by your will to live – as possible," she explained. "The purpose is to separate your soul from your body – your flesh – before they can eat your soul or will to live. The final stroke is when your will to live is gone. That is when your flesh will drop off from your soul. Usually, as long as you still have the will to live, they cannot eat your soul. However, when soul killers are inside of you for far too long, their roots will harden and after some time dry up. When that happens, regardless of you having the will to live or not, the soul killers will forcibly devour your soul, sucking your will to live. And, considering there are more than one soul killer attached to you, it will be a horrifying death."

"Are they cousins of Dementors, by any chance?" Hermione asked calmly. Truth to be told, she was extremely terrified but did not want to worry Fleur any further. Judging by the blonde's tight grip on Hermione's arms, Fleur must be in a mixture of anger, worry, and fear.

"No," Mildred shook her head. "Dementors are created differently. They're soulless. They feed on people's happiness. But soul killers are created from a dead person's soul. They generally feed on blood."

"As much as this academic discussion is fascinating, I believe we have a far more important issue at hand," Fleur interjected before the conversation steered off too far. "I am concerned that the soul killers are starting to talk in Hermione's dreams, unlike before."

Mildred regarded Hermione for a moment before answering, "I think it's because previously, Hermione did not know of their existence. Now that Hermione knows and we're actively fighting them, they changed their strategy."

Just then there was a knock on the door. While Mildred went to answer it, Hermione took the opportunity to give Fleur a quick kiss.

"I've been wanting to do that," the brunette murmured.

"Too shy in front of Mildred?" Fleur smirked, teasing.

"Shut up," muttered the brunette. Fleur laughed and gently kissed Hermione.

"I'm glad you both are spreading your love," Mildred sounded amused. She was carrying a tray. "I've got food for us. Now, Fleur, you _have_ to finish your food. There's no more excuse."

Hermione frowned at the blonde. "Have you not been eating properly?"

"She's been like a headless chicken in distress, emitting black smoke from her ears, on the brink of razing a village," Mildred answered before Fleur could say a word. Mildred set down the tray and Hermione saw three identical bowls of porridge. The witch continued, "She was like a feral cat. It was difficult to force her to even take a bite."

"Fleur, you can fall sick!" Hermione exclaimed. Fleur had the grace to look sheepish.

"I was just worried about you, Hermione," the blonde muttered.

"And you'll make me worried if you fall sick," replied the brunette.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, but I am not sick," the blonde apologised sincerely. "Look, I will finish my food but you have to finish yours too, alright? I at least did eat something for the past few days, unlike you."

"And _I_ am the one getting sick looking at you both," muttered Mildred. "Come on, start eating."

The food was bland but Hermione had never felt so hungry before in her life. She, with the aid of Fleur, ravenously gobbled up the porridge. Mildred even offered the brunette a quarter of her portion, which Hermione accepted without a second thought.

"Mildred, how did you know I was going to be conscious today?" Hermione asked when she had finished her food. She leaned on Fleur, who was still eating. Hermione felt slightly guilty for interrupting Fleur's meal – the blonde was occupied with feeding Hermione.

Mildred shrugged. "I've always ordered for three for the past few days, just in case you wake up at any time. Besides, it won't look odd to suddenly order an extra portion. The innkeeper won't be too curious. She'll most likely assume I'm having a threesome or something."

Hermione nearly said 'as long as Fleur is not involved' but kept her mouth shut. Her dislike toward Mildred was not as intense as it was when she woke up, but the brunette was not sure whether it was due to her full and content stomach or the effects of the potion.

"Hermione, if you don't mind, I have several questions for you." Mildred pulled her chair nearer toward Hermione. "This Umbridge, do you know her well? I'm trying to figure out why she hates you so much."

Hermione's expression was grim. "When she was in Hogwarts, it was horrible," the brunette recalled. "As High Inquisitor, she passed many draconian laws. As a teacher, she was preventing us from learning anything useful. All because she was paranoid that Dumbledore was trying to take over the Ministry and she believed that Harry was seeking for attention. She also hates non-purebloods and other magical creatures."

"In Hogwarts during my fifth year, I helped Harry to get his story out by getting him an interview with a journalist. The Quibbler published the truth of what happened during the finals of the Triwizard Cup and that Voldemort had returned. Umbridge was furious, of course. She also knew I was the one helping Harry." The corner of Hermione's mouth curled a little, remembering the contorted expression on Umbridge's face. "On the last day of the OWLS test, Harry had a vision that his godfather – Sirius – was captured by Voldemort and was in the Ministry. Naturally, Harry wanted to rescue him. Umbridge caught us and, to shake her off, I claimed that Dumbledore had a secret weapon. She believed me and forced me to show it to her. Together with Harry, I led her to the Forbidden Forrest and managed to well, sort of trick the centaurs into capturing her. They released us and we went off to the Ministry for our rescue mission."

Hermione smiled sadly, remembering that was the day where Sirius died.

"So she basically hates your guts," summarised Mildred, to which Hermione nodded affirmatively. "And I presume she is a pureblood as well?"

Hermione nodded again. "She claims to be a descendant of Selwyn."

Mildred furrowed her brow, thinking. "That's an English pureblood name. Not known for their capabilities or talents in anything with dark magic though. Hmmm. The Umbridge name is not that well-known. I was quite confused at first when her name came up. Knowledge of soul killers is not what one would find anywhere easily. But, she does sound like an awful person and considering she did work in the Ministry, I'm sure she'd easily stumble upon such information."

"I will strangle her myself," Fleur muttered darkly.

"Well, you can do that soon enough," Mildred said. "Harry Potter works as an Aurror, correct? Is it possible for you to get him to locate and capture Umbridge, Hermione?"

Hermione frowned. She really did not want anyone else to get involved and found out what had been happening to her.

"I need to get both you and Umbridge in the same room so that I can return the soul killers and bind them to her," explained Mildred. "As I said before, if I only return the soul killers, that foul woman would just resend them to you again. Not only that, there's also the likelihood that she'll increase the number of soul killers and I myself have no idea whether I'll be strong enough to counter many soul killers." Seeing the unhappy look on Hermione's face, Mildred continued, "I would personally go and hunt for Umbridge but unfortunately, I can't roam around out in the open freely. I have a price on my head – it's a long story. The soul killers know that we know who sent them. By now, Umbridge will know of it too and I bet you any money she's already hiding herself."

"I can get Patel & Associates to hunt for her," Fleur offered quietly.

"Don't forget, they will also figure out what's been happening to the war heroine," Mildred cautioned. "The reason why I suggested Harry Potter is because I know he's Hermione's best friend and I doubt he will blabber to the public or use the information against her."

Hermione sighed. Mildred's point was valid. But how was she to tell Harry that she had been lying to him all these time?

"Look, if you have any other ways of locating and capturing that woman, go for it," Mildred said. "What I need is to have you both in the same room, with her preferably knocked out cold so that she can't interrupt me. Also, we don't have much time. If the soul killers dared to tell you that the roots are drying up soon, then I doubt we have more than three months left. I know you'll hate to hear this but: once the roots dry up, even I can't help you."

Hermione closed her eyes. She was so tired. Three months at most. How wonderful.

"So all we need to do is to locate and grab that pink think, right?" Fleur asked.

Mildred nodded. "And also, you, Fleur, _must_ make sure Hermione does not fall into another bout of emotional distress. Another episode of that will expedite the drying up process."

"Got it," the blonde replied. "Thanks for the help, Mil. We're getting out of your hair now. Rest up. I'll get that pink thing one way or another." She gathered Hermione in her arms and turned on the spot, Disapparating.

"Fleur, remember that time is important," Mildred called out as darkness consumed them.


	10. Friends Are Forever

_**Hi everyone, I'm sorry for the delay but life has been a wild ride for me lately. But now I finally managed to have some time to write and I am back!**_

 _ **So here's the next chapter, and thank you for patiently waiting.**_

 _ **Much apologies for any mistakes.**_

 _ **Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter.**_

 _ **PS: There'll be the Australian nationals quidditch championship (QUAFL) this coming 9-11 December 2016 in Canberra, in the AIS. If your weekend is empty, please consider dropping by to watch and support the local quidditch teams. Entry is free!**_

* * *

Hermione was awoken by Fleur's snoring. It was not loud or annoying, but it woke the brunette all the same. Hermione looked at the blonde's sleeping face and watched her chest's slow and steady rhythms. The exhaustion on Fleur's face was erased slowly by the power of sleep. On an impulse, Hermione kissed Fleur's lips gently amidst the snoring.

 _Fleur's not snoring – she's purring!_ The brunette stifled a giggle. It would not do to wake the blonde.

Slowly and gently so as to not awaken her beloved, Hermione tilted Fleur's chin upward, away from the blonde's chest. The purring – snoring – stopped. Mission accomplished. Hermione resisted the urge to punch the air with her fist. Any sudden movement might disturb Fleur's slumber. Noticing the lack of blanket on the blonde, Hermione pulled half from _her_ side and covered Fleur with it. The brunette marveled at Fleur's determination to withstand the cold instead of just pulling the blanket from Hermione's side. If there was one bad habit that the brunette had, it was hogging the blanket. Was that the reason why Fleur always wore one layer too much for bed? Hermione kissed Fleur again in silent thanks.

The brunette slowly rested herself in Fleur's arms again, head on the blonde's chest. Hermione closed her eyes, letting Fleur's scent and warmth enveloped her. Her mind idly turned to recent events. Without realizing it, she frowned.

The past few days the both of them had been doing nothing much aside from sleeping and eating. The latest attack left the both of them exhausted, both physically and mentally. While Hermione was unconscious, Fleur stayed by her side, refusing to even take a wink. The blonde took several Stamina Potions to keep her wide awake. Now Fleur was paying back the sleep hours she stole from her own body. Hermione had been mad at her lover when she found out but a long, steamy kiss made her forget what she was mad about (that sneaky Veela!).

Mildred's words played in her mind. Hermione was not keen on involving Harry, of all people, in this issue. Knowing him, Harry would immediately forgive her but he would insist on her telling Ginny the truth. Not only that, Hermione had a hunch that both Harry and Ginny would try to get the brunette to make up with Ron in the process. Hermione was nowhere near ready to confront Ron and mend their friendship. And even if the three of them would be on board and support her, Hermione had a feeling they would try to get her to involve the rest of her old friends such as Neville, Luna, and George. At that stage, Hermione might as well let Rita Skeeter interview her and publish an article about the brunette's struggles on the _Daily Prophet_. No. To prevent a horrifying snowball effect, Harry should not know anything about this at all.

But then again, how would Hermione be able to locate Umbridge? The old Hermione would be able to do it alone without any support. But the current Hermione, needing as less stress as possible, would not be able to do so. There was Fleur's contacts but Mildred was right: was Hermione willing for strangers to know of her issues?

The brunette sighed. As if knowing Hermione was still awake, Fleur unconsciously rubbed and patted the brunette's back gently, making noises one makes when trying to convince a baby to sleep. Hermione, once recovered from her surprise at the random movement, giggled quietly. Fleur was so adorable, even in her sleep.

Slightly cheered by Fleur's cute behaviour, Hermione closed her eyes again and within moments, fell into a deep sleep.

"A knut for your thoughts," Fleur's gentle voice pulled Hermione out of her reverie. "Or in your case, a galleon for your thoughts."

Hermione looked up from the lake and smiled at the approaching blonde. The sun's rays on Fleur's golden hair made her looked as if sparkling, making Hermione's heart skipped a beat. The brunette never tired of gazing at her lover.

"Why a galleon?" Hermione watched Fleur sat next to her on the jetty, offering the brunette a cup of steaming hot chocolate. Hermione was pleased to find marshmallows inside. Lovely.

"Because you're very precious to me, Hermione." Fleur's eyes danced with warmth.

Regardless of the frequency of the blonde repeating that particular sentence, Hermione still blushed hearing it. The brunette busied herself drinking the hot chocolate, ignoring Fleur's chuckle. One day, Hermione promised to herself, she would be the one constantly causing Fleur's face to blush.

Hermione leaned her head on Fleur's shoulder, inhaling the blonde's scent.

"I'm not sure what I should do, Fleur," the brunette admitted. "Everything still feels quite surreal. On one hand, I doubt the existence of soul killers. On the other, my experience tells me to do what Mildred said." She sighed.

"But?" Fleur prompted gently.

"But I don't want to involve anyone else. I mean, what should I tell my friends? They once thought I was slowly becoming insane – well, they're not that far off the mark; it's just that they don't know the full story of why I'm turning insane. What if they don't believe my story? I mean, I've been lying all this time to them, there's no way they'd believe this whole mess. The only one who'd believe me is most probably Luna. But who takes Luna seriously?"

"Luna is quite an insightful girl," Fleur said quietly, staring off into space. "Yes she is an oddball but she's always the first to figure out things. Did you know that she's set up a private consulting firm and that the Ministry frequently contracted her to advice on numerous cases for both the Aurors and Department of Mysteries?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows. No, she did not know and yes, that was an interesting piece of information. When and how the heck did that even happen?

"I believe people are starting to look past her eccentricities and take her seriously, Hermione," Fleur continued. "If you do plan on telling your friends, you might want to talk to Luna first. When they see that she believes you, they will follow suit."

Hermione smiled wistfully. In the past, if she was the one that believed something to be the truth, everyone else would follow. But now, with the pile of lies she had been dishing out, she needed Luna, of all people, to convince the others.

"But is it necessary to tell everyone?" the brunette thought out loud.

"Your friends deserve to know something, Hermione," Fleur said gently. "All they want is for you to be happy. They're concerned about you. They care about you. But they can't help you unless you tell them what kind of help you need exactly. I think had they known what's going on, I believe they wouldn't have thought you were turning insane."

Hermione was quiet. There was truth in Fleur's words. Would things be different had the brunette told the truth right from the start? Would they believe her? Would the whole thing be solved immediately? Most likely yes, considering Umbridge was still in Azkaban at that time and they could easily access that pink woman. Hermione sighed.

"I will be there with you, Hermione," murmured Fleur. "Unfortunately, I can't be the one who tell them. They deserve to hear it directly from you."

"What if we hunt for Umbridge ourselves, Fleur? Just us both?"

"No can do, sweetheart," Fleur shook her head. "We're pressed for time. There'll be too many dangers and I doubt we can deal with those as well as the soul killers at the same time. Well, there's always Patel & Associates if you want? I'm pretty sure I can offer them an amount they can't refuse to keep quiet about the whole situation."

"No, don't do that, Fleur. Don't waste your money unnecessarily just because I'm a coward and a liar."

"It's not a waste if at the end of the day you're safe and happy, Hermione."

"No Fleur, that's alright, I'll talk to Harry and Ginny soon." Knowing Fleur's stubbornness, Hermione made her decision there and then before the blonde decided to march to Patel & Associates. "I'll tell them the truth."

Fleur gave her a worried look. "Are you sure? I really don't mind to hire Patel & Associates for this."

"Yes, Fleur," Hermione nodded vigorously, hoping to dissuade the blonde. "I am very sure. In fact, let's drop by tomorrow, what do you think?"

"We're pressed for time, Hermione. Let's just do it now while the brownies are still warm, shall we?"

Hermione groaned internally. She looked at the grinning blonde and knew that Fleur managed to push her into taking action.

"You're so manipulative," the brunette grumbled, heading inside to change her clothes. She grudgingly admired Fleur's skilful way of handling her. It was quite frightening. But at the same time, Hermione felt slightly turned on by that. She shook her head and grabbed a grey sweater. Now was definitely not the time for _that_.

When Fleur took Hermione's hand and turned on the spot, the brunette was not expecting to arrive in front of a very familiar red telephone booth. Hermione groaned.

"Come on, we might be able to catch Harry before he goes for lunch," Fleur said as she pulled Hermione into the booth with her.

"Can't we just wait at Grimmauld Place?" the brunette whined. She was not looking forward to see her ex-colleagues.

"We don't know whether Harry will be working late tonight or whether Ginny will be home at all. It will be fine, Hermione. I am with you."

The brunette sighed, defeated. Fleur would do what Fleur wanted to do. Hermione had a feeling if she insisted on not wanting to go, Fleur would give in. But the blonde had been looking after her all these while. Letting Fleur had her way from time to time was a small repayment Hermione can more than afford.

Sure enough, when they arrived at the Atrium, they became the centre of attention. Nearly all eyes were on them. Instantly whispers and murmurs spread out, with Hermione's name the common word. Hermione hated it. She wanted to yell at them to look away, wanted to run away and hide. Coming here was a big mistake.

Just as she turned to run off, Fleur held her hand firmly and stepped in front of the brunette.

"I wonder, where could Mr Potter be?" the blonde said loudly in an alluring and seductive voice. Hermione stared at her lover. What was Fleur up to now?

"I've come so far just to see him but I'm afraid I will get lost," Fleur continued, sighing. To Hermione's amazement, more than half of the Atrium sighed as well. The brunette frowned.

"Is there anyone who can show me to him?" Fleur asked in that voice that started to annoy Hermione.

As if entranced, nearly everyone in the Atrium rushed toward the blonde, raising their hands and yelling 'Me! Me!', pushing each other out of the way, trying to eliminate competition.

"Ah." It dawned on Hermione that Fleur was using her Veela thrall at full blast to shift the focus to the blonde from the brunette. Hermione was grateful for that and squeezed Fleur's hand once to thank her silently.

"What's with the ruckus?"

A grumpy voice from behind Hermione startled the brunette. She was not expecting it. Hermione turned around and immediately jumped the man.

"Harry! I am so glad you are here!"

Immediately, the mob pointed at Harry and yelled, "There's Harry for you, Miss!" A scuffle broke out between three men who each claimed that they were the first one.

"What's going on, 'Mione?" whispered a confused Harry.

"Fleur happened," was Hermione's simple explanation.

The blonde in question raised her hand, demanding silence. It was instantly obeyed.

"Thank you for your kind help, beautiful ladies and brave gentlemen," Fleur said loudly, as seductive as possible. The Atrium sighed in longing collectively. Hermione had to stomp on Harry's feet to clear his head. "As Mr Potter is here now, I shall be taking my leave."

Harry, with Hermione nudging at him, led the brunette and the blonde away from the mob. As a parting gift, Fleur blew the throng a kiss, which resulted in another collective sigh. Hermione stared daggers at each of them (not that they were paying attention to the brunette).

"Not that I am unhappy to see the both of you here but why the sudden visit?" Harry asked when they reached his office. Hermione noted that _Team Captain_ was inscribed on his door.

"Congratulations for the promotion, Harry," the brunette.

Harry beamed. "Thanks, 'Mione. If I work hard enough, I'll be department head within seven years. Ten years top."

"And to think you were this shy, scrawny kid," mused Fleur, taking a seat across Harry.

"Well I – " Harry was interrupted by a knock on the door. A moment later, without waiting for Harry's approval, the door was opened, revealing a grinning Ernest Maximillian.

"Hermione Granger! I have not seen you for a long time, how have you been?" Ernie was still as pompous as Hermione remembered him. She shook his proffered hand.

"I've been well, Ernie. I never knew you're an Auror now." Hermione tried to be as polite as possible.

"I believe that it is my duty to fight the good fight," Ernie beamed. "This job fits me well, don't you think?" He puffed out his chest proudly. Hermione had a feeling he was referring to the uniform, not the job itself.

"Ernie, why are you here?" Harry asked.

"Oh, I'm just here to catch Hermione," smiled Ernie pleasantly. "I have not seen her for quite some time and this is such a rare occasion I could not help myself barging in. My apologies, Harry."

"Hermione and I are here for a government matter," Fleur interjected, calmly taking Hermione's hand in hers, giving it a kiss. The brunette was aware that Ernie was staring in shock. "While I understand that you're Hermione's friend and would like to chat with her for a bit, I'd like to request you to leave. This is a highly-sensitive case and you're not included in my clearance list."

"Oh. I see." Ernie looked crestfallen. "My apologies for barging in uninvited. Have a pleasant day, ladies and gentleman." He closed the door quietly, not looking at any of them.

"By this evening half of Britain will know you guys are dating," Harry commented, amused.

Hermione groaned. "Just what I need."

"I'm sorry, Hermione, I shouldn't have done that," Fleur apologised immediately.

"No, Fleur, there's no need to apologise," Hermione shook her head. "Regardless of who I date, it will be a hot topic anyway. It's just that I am not looking forward to the media and hate mails."

"Hate mails?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Fleur's hot and has an army of fans," the brunette explained. "I'll be the most hated person in Britain by the end of today."

"On the bright side, everybody knows you're mine so they should back off," Fleur grinned.

Hermione just sighed and rolled her eyes.

"At any rate, how can I help you two ladies?" Harry asked. He pointed at the door and muttered the locking spell and Muffliato charm. Now nobody could enter without permission and no eavesdropper could hear anything. "And how are you, 'Mione? I'm so sorry with how Ron was acting up, that dolt is just being a stubborn ox. He just doesn't understand your situation. He's also doing the same with me. Sometimes he gets angry at me for not telling him much but he's not an Auror anymore, there's no way I'd just tell him classified things."

"Well," Hermione hesitated. Fleur squeezed her hand in encouragement, "I am here because of that. Ron. Plus a lot of other things I should've told you from the beginning. it's like this Harry. It's a long story. Wait – are we disturbing you? Do you have any meetings or interviews or whatnot?"

"By now the news of Hermione Granger walking into my office will already reach the Minister, 'Mione," Harry said gently. "They can take care of whatever I'm supposed to have. You're more important. Besides, I bet Ernie would blab about this 'top-secret government meeting' we're having right now. Nobody in their right mind would dare to bother us. So yes, I have time. What's troubling you, 'Mione?"

"Well, uh, it's a long story Harry," Hermione said nervously. She glanced at Fleur who smiled encouragingly at her. The brunette took a deep breath. This was it. Fleur was here, it would be alright. She was not alone. "Do you remember that night in Leaky Cauldron when all of us were gathering and having a mini celebration?"

Harry nodded slowly and leaned forward, fingers entwined. The serious and solemn expression he made encouraged Hermione. Harry would not immediately lose his temper – he would actually listen and try to understand her, no matter how hurt he would be feeling. So Hermione told her story, letting the words rolled of her tongue while her memories resurfaced. She described the events in a chronological fashion, as if reciting facts for a history test. While Harry's expressions alternated between shock, sombre, grave, angry, and disbelief, he did not interrupt Hermione, staying quiet.

When Hermione finished her tale, she looked at Harry with a fearful expression. He did not say anything, deep in thought, digesting her words. Had it not for Fleur's calming presence, Hermione would be running out of Harry's office and go into hiding. The brunette wished Harry would say something but did not dare to break the silence, for fear of harsh retorts.

Harry then stood and walked over to his cabinet, opened it, and, to Hermione's surprise, brought three cans of Pepsi, offering them to the two witches.

"As weird as it sounds, yes, I do prefer Pepsi," he gave them a wry smile.

"What's this?" Fleur asked, confused.

"It's a muggle unhealthy drink," Harry answered, popping his can open and took a gulp. "Drink it slowly, it's fizzy."

Hermione took Fleur's can, showed her how to open it, and told her to take a sip first. "Not everybody can gulp it at once like Harry." Turning to the wizard, the brunette remarked, "Wasn't expecting you to keep Pepsi in your office, Harry."

"It's kind of a luxury item for me, 'Mione," he leaned back on his chair and closed his eyes, savouring the taste. "Uncle Vernon rarely allowed me to have some. Now that I am a grown man and I can drink whatever I want to drink, I keep plenty of Pepsi around."

"It's…an odd taste," Fleur commented, face scrunched up and shook her head, trying to get rid of the fizzy taste. "But it's quite nice. I don't know how to describe it."

Harry laughed. "You should've seen Neville's reaction when he tried it for the first time. He spat it out and thought it's the muggles' weapon of destruction and that I was showing him a highly classified Auror matter."

Hermione chuckled. She could imagine Neville's earnest and serious face while saying those words.

"Hermione, can I try to open yours?"

Hermione looked in amusement as Fleur, with deep concentration, opened the can carefully. The blonde triumphantly handed the brunette the now-opened can. "Here you go, milady."

"You did considerably well compared to Ginny," chuckled Harry. "She shook the can around in excitement and well, the can turned to a volcano when she opened it the next minute."

"What – "

"Just don't shake a can of cola before you open it," advised Hermione. "It's dangerous."

Fleur took note of it seriously. Muggles could destroy the world easily if they want to.

"But back to the topic at hand, why did you not tell me earlier, 'Mione?" there was hurt in Harry's eyes. Hermione looked away, feeling guilty.

"I didn't want to lose you, Harry," she sighed.

"Why would I walk away from you? After all we've been through? After all the times you saved my neck?"

"I'm sorry Harry, I know you're angry but – "

"Of course I'm angry! You could've died, you know! We did not go through all those hardships just so you can suffer alone and rot away quietly. You're my best friend. You've stuck with me since I was eleven, even when everybody else deserted me. Why would I leave you now, 'Mione? I'm not afraid to protect you."

"I'm not saying you're a coward Harry but I'm half-mad. Why would you still be my friend?"

"Said the person who stood by me when everyone else thought I put my name in Triwizard Cup," Harry raised an eyebrow. "Also said by the person who stood by me when Ron walked out when we were hunting for Horcruxes."

Hermione had no idea what to say to that.

"Look, I can go on and on, but my point is, no matter what kind of situation you are in, I'll always be there for you, 'Mione," Harry continued gently. "If you're insane, let's be insane together. If you've decided to break into Gringgotts again, I'll help you carry the gold. The only thing I won't do is if you decide to become a nun – I love my sex life, thank you."

Hermione wiped away the tears that started to fall unbidden. "That's sweet of you, Harry," she chuckled.

"Why would you even think that, 'Mione? Have I ever given you any indication that I'd just walk away from your life at the slightest hint of trouble?"

"Well," the brunette hesitated, "it's not you per se but… On your birthday a few years back, I… I had the 'migraine' again and I saw how people looked at me, Harry. They thought I was insane. I overheard them talking about convincing me to go to St. Mungo's. I am _not_ crazy. So I – "

" – thought that I would share their opinion as well," Harry finished her sentence, nodding in understanding. "I can't speak for the rest because I don't know what they think of it, but I certainly do not care whether you are actually insane or not. I mean, I do care and want you to be healthy always, but if it's unavoidable, I'd want to stand by you until the end, 'Mione."

"You're not…afraid?" Hermione asked in a low whisper.

"No, why would I?" Harry got off his chair and knelt in front of Hermione, looking into her eyes while firmly saying, "Hermione Granger, you stood by me all my life. I would like to support yours as well."

"Oh, Harry!" the brunette threw her arms around him, sobbing. A huge load was lifted off her chest.

"While I _am_ afraid of your abilities – you're quite scary when you're angry – I am not afraid of you, 'Mione," he added. "You've helped me all my life – this time, let me help you, okay?"

Hermione nodded, whispering a thank you in his ears.

"And no more lies or hiding things from me, 'Mione," added Harry. "Please tell me whenever you feel hurt, or sad, or angry, or down, or just anything."

"Trying to take my job, Harry?" Fleur jokingly said.

Hermione laughed and wiped her tears away. She released her hold on Harry, who was smiling kindly at her.

"If you're not doing your job properly, then yes Fleur, I'll be taking it," Harry replied with a grin.

"Thank you for not yelling at me, Harry," Hermione said gratefully. "Even though you have every right to do so."

"Nah, that's Fleur's job, not mine."

"Hey! Why would _that_ be my job?"

"Because you can have make up sex with Hermione later on, while I can't." Harry avoided Fleur's attempt at swatting his head. Hermione blushed.

"But in all seriousness," Harry's voice turned somber, "who sent those soul killers, 'Mione? Do you know the person? You haven't told me yet."

Hermione exchanged a glance with Fleur. Harry would not like this at all.

"It's Umbridge, Harry," the brunette answered.

As predicted, Harry went into rage mode.

"Umbridge? Dolores _fucking_ Umbridge?" he growled. "I told Kingsley to just let her rot in Azkaban till she dies but no! He actually agreed to release her early!"

"Wait – Kingsley allowed that?" Hermione was horrified. Kingsley was there when Umbridge went on a rampage in Hogwarts. What was the Minister playing at, releasing that hideous demon?

"Yes," Harry answered unhappily. "He didn't really want to do it either but he's being pressured by many sides. He said his hands are tied. I wasn't really paying attention to the whole shenanigans because I didn't want to get angry all the time. So I ignored the whole thing. I'm sorry, 'Mione, had I known she's the culprit, I'd have pushed Kingsley harder."

"Who's cornered Kingsley?" Fleur asked, curious. The Minister was not one who could be cornered easily.

"I don't quite know, it's dirty politics," Harry sighed. "I do know there are some who wants him to step down and pass the baton to someone else who is controllable but I don't really know the specifics. I assume Umbridge has influential friends."

"Faeces are poisonous if not flushed properly," murmured Fleur.

Both Harry and Hermione stared at her.

"It's a phrase my mother likes to say," the blonde shrugged.

"A very apt phrase for this case," Harry remarked.

Despite herself, Hermione chuckled.

"Harry, I don't mean to add you unnecessary burden but are you able to help us to locate her? We need her physically so that we can bind the soul killers to her," Fleur said.

"But please, don't tell anyone else," Hermione added, anxious.

"Don't worry, 'Mione, I'll keep this quiet," he promised. "But I can't do it alone and no, you can't help me, 'Mione." He was stern. "Your own story said the more emotionally distressed you are, the more frequent the attacks are."

Hermione was crestfallen. She did not want her best friend to jump into danger alone for her sake. The least she could do was to help him out.

"I was thinking along the line of getting the good ol' troop to help," he continued. The brunette stared at him. Surely he did not mean…

"Yes, 'Mione, I was thinking to get help from our friends," Harry emphasized the word 'friends'. "Starting from Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Luna."

"No," Hermione shook her head vehemently. She did not want that. She was not capable to withstand their frightened looks again. "Not them, Harry. No."

"They will help you, 'Mione," he insisted. "Look, Ron is angry at you because he's hurt because he's being his childish self. But he does care about you and is worried about you. So are Ginny, Luna, Neville, and even Pansy."

"No Harry, they will run away from me. They think I am insane like Bellatrix," the brunette whispered.

"You've never gave them a chance to listen to your explanation, did you?" he asked, spot on. Hermione never even tried to explain about her condition to them. "'Mione, trust me, they will not leave you. If they do, then good riddance, I'd say. But they won't. They know how much you've sacrificed for them – for all of us. They miss you and would like to be a part of your life again. They don't even know why you disappeared. Nobody knows. Well, only I know now. And Fleur, of course."

"Hermione, Harry is right," Fleur said gently. "I believe the soul killers are the ones making you feel that you're all helpless and alone. They want you to be cut off from your support system, to make it easier for you to give up life."

"If you're uncomfortable in facing them, I can summarise it to them before you meet them," suggested Harry.

Hermione looked at Fleur. The blonde's eyes were filled with emotions that Hermione grew to like: encouragement, support, kindness, acceptance, and warmth. Part of Hermione was rebelling against the idea while part of her knew that both Harry and Fleur were right. She was conflicted and confused. But the more she thought about Fleur's words, the more it made more sense to the brunette. She recalled the times she went to hang out with her friends previously, when the attacks had started. Each time she was going out, there was this sinking feeling of dread, making her try to come up with a million excuses for not going. Each time she was enjoying herself surrounded by friends, there would always be something that made her took steps to isolate herself. Even having a girlfriend was nothing short of a miracle – it was purely Fleur's stubbornness that led to a chance at romance.

"While I am not keen on explaining myself all over again, I do know and I do understand why I should tell them," Hermione said quietly. She sighed. "One moment I'd tell myself that yes, my friends deserve the truth. The next moment I'd go 'why do they need to be told anything?'. It's maddening. But involving them would be dangerous, Harry. Not everyone went through Auror training."

"But they did fight against Voldemort and his Death Eaters, 'Mione," Harry reasoned. "I'd say they're more than well-trained."

Hermione mulled for a moment. "What if I say no?"

"Then I will still help you but I will give you the silent treatment," Harry said seriously. "And the next time you come 'round my place I will tell Ginny that you've been extremely mean to me. You know how protective she can be."

"That's not fair!" the brunette protested.

"All I'm asking – no, demanding – is that you come clean to all of us and let us back into your life so that we can help you and watch you be happy again, 'Mione," Harry pleaded. "They might yell at you for the first few minutes but I promise you they will not walk away from you. If anyone does, I will murder the person myself."

Hermione chuckled. She took a deep breath. Should she take this chance?

"I don't have enough courage to face them, Harry," the brunette said. "However, if it's not too much trouble, can you show them your memory of me telling you my story?"

"Are you sure, 'Mione? Because er I did see the both of you holding hands and stuff and I don't know how to block them from my memories so they cannot see it."

"Thanks to Ernie, I bet they'd know by now I'm with Fleur," Hermione shrugged. "If they have issues with me dating another witch, I don't want them getting involved with helping me."

"Very well, I'll gather them soon and I'll show them my memory," Harry said. "Once I've done that, I'll let you know how it goes and then we can plan for the next step. But how do I contact you?"

Hermione looked at Fleur for help. The brunette was not ready to be easily reached by people, even if it was Harry.

"Send an owl to my apartment in London," Fleur answered. "I'll check the place once a day."

"I'm sorry Harry, it's not that I don't want to show you my house," Hermione apologised. "It's just that – "

"Don't worry, 'Mione, one step at a time," Harry smiled kindly. "I'm just thankful you've finally told me the truth. I've missed you so much."

Hermione pulled him into a hug, grateful that she had one of the most wonderful men in the world as her best friend.

"But I have to bring you to see Ginny, though," Harry said apologetically, releasing the brunette's hug. "She's been so worried about you. She nearly hexed Ron into oblivion for what he did."

"And I did bring some brownies," Fleur announced.

Harry chuckled. "I see you've come prepared. Well then, shall we?"

Hermione nodded.


	11. Reparation

**_Hi everyone, many apologies for the delay. I broke up with my girlfriend (now ex) recently and I just could not bring myself to write or do much of anything else. Especially writing a love story when my own is gone. However, I feel better now and I think I'm getting my writing mood back. I hope this chapter does not disappoint._**

 ** _Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._**

 ** _Thanks for sticking around and waiting for the next chapter, I really appreciate it._**

 ** _Enjoy._**

* * *

The sea was a temperamental mistress, its sighs swooned lovebirds; its fury spelled tragedy. The lone figure stared at the crashing waves below the dainty café, unflinching as the aftermaths shook the establishment. It was as if he did not feel a thing, not acknowledging the might of the ocean.

As Katarina poured the espresso that the lone figure ordered, she sneaked a glance at the man, mild curiosity setting in. It had been a slow day at work, and the café was nearly empty. To hell with the weather and England. But Katarina needed the extra money for the upcoming semester, and so instead of joining the rest of her friends to a warmer and a considerably more joyful place, she worked. The rain had been pouring all day long, and Katarina swore the endless thunders had rendered her deaf. She was shocked when a customer actually came in.

By the way the man spoke and acted, Katarina was certain he was from a wealthy upbringing, with high education that only the privileged few enjoy. His politeness surprised her – the rich brats at her campus forever boiled her blood. Katarina did wonder about the man's fashion choices – clad in all black with robe-like thing, with zero recognizable current trends. Being rich must be nice, people were willing to ignore your horrible fashion sense in order to get your money, she mused to herself.

Putting the cup next to the strawberry cheesecake on the tray, Katarina went around the counter and placed the items in front of the man. He thanked her, in his polite and most sincere tone, and her heart quickened a little. Katarina managed to mumble a reply before scooting off to her safe zone, behind the counter. She cursed herself. She had been out of the dating game for nearly two years, too busy with getting her mechatronics degree and working part time. Now, a man thanking her politely was making her giddy. Unbelievable. She shook her head.

Katarina rearranged the counter and cleaned it (not that there was much cleaning to be done – the man, after all, was the first customer of the day) to take her mind off absurd thoughts. She had forgotten that she was curious about the man's purpose of coming to the small café on a cliff in such a horrible weather. But that curiosity was rekindled when, nearly half an hour later, the café door opened for the second time of the day, giving way to an equivalently eccentrically-dressed short woman, bringing the rain in with her.

The waitress sighed inwardly at the sight of the muddy and wet floor, but composed her face and greeted the new customer as cheerfully as she could. But the woman ignored Katarina, walking straight to the man who was now studying the brief interaction with mild interest. Feeling rather flustered at the rudeness, the waitress quickly followed the woman, bringing a set of menu with her.

"What can I get for you, ma'am?" asked Katarina in her best polite voice. "May I recommend our very own designed Papyrus Tea? It's calming and warming, perfect for a horrid weather like this."

The short woman looked horrified and disgusted. She moved her chair as far as she could from the poor waitress, who was wondering whether she had said anything offensive.

"Forgive my esteemed colleague, young lady, but she's going through a lot of things at the moment and she's quite jumpy," the man cut in apologetically. "Would it be alright if we call you later on should my colleague want anything?"

"Y…yes, of course sir, my apologies," Katarina stammered, feeling her heart melting slowly at the ever-polite man. She nodded her apologies at the short woman and excused herself from that table, scurrying to her fort behind the counter.

Not knowing what else to do, and giving up pretending to be busy, Katarina sat on the floor, leaning against the solid wooden counter, and took her Game Boy out of her pocket and started playing her all-time favourite, Pokemon Yellow.

She was so engrossed in the game that she was startled when she heard her customers hissing at each other. Not wanting to witness a scene, Katarina stayed still. Not that she could see them from her position on the floor behind the counter. But she could not help putting all her focus on the conversation – this was as interesting as her boring day could get.

"…and why do you think I'm wearing all black, Marshall?" the short woman hissed.

"Trying to make people feel disgusted with the colour, perhaps? You've succeeded that with pink, Dolores," Marshall sounded very amused.

"This is not a joke! Why can't you ever be serious? You're hungry for a Wizengamot seat but you barely take anything seriously."

Katarina wondered what that Wize-mot thing was. Was that a new political party?

"Now, now, Dolores, surely you can take a joke or two, hmmm?" Marshall asked pleasantly.

The sound of the woman growling reminded Katarina of a wounded, bleeding cow.

"And is Granger being alive a joke to you as well? You said her days are numbered, any time now she'd take her own life. You _guaranteed_ me that calling the ancient powers would be the perfect solution. I've spent a fortune, Marshall, and now I'm down to just one pathetic house-elf!"

"Are you calling me a liar, Dolores?" Marshall's voice dropped low, dangerous and menacing. The hairs at the back of Katarina's neck suddenly rose. "I never guarantee anything that I'm not completely certain. Have patience. These things take time. That poisonous mudblood will succumb to her disease soon."

Katarina was horrified. Why were these people not helping this sick person? And what ancient powers were they talking about? Were they some kind of religious nuts? Katarina ignored her fainting Squirtle and turned her full attention to the conversation.

"You keep on spewing all those guarantees yet the only thing that's been happening is that mudblood disappearing to who-knows-where," snorted Dolores. "Word is spreading about how the Golden Girl is dating another so-called war hero – another woman, mind you. This is what I've been saying all these years but nobody wanted to listen to me. You let these mud creatures into our society, and the next thing you know they'll poison your minds. A mudblood being adored now dating a halfblood trash. Oh, the horror! Can't you see why this evil creature must perish immediately, Marshall?"

Katarina was certain she just stumbled (well, it stumbled onto her) onto something big. She was just not quite sure what this was. Without giving it much thought, she took out her two months old flip phone and recorded the conversation.

"Yes, yes, I do know and understand it, Dolores," Marshall replied impatiently. "You just have to trust me. Lucas is from a long line of wizards familiar with this particular brand of magic, he will definitely deliver."

"Tell me, how many people have he killed by sending these…spirits?"

"I'll have to admit, this will be his first time doing it. But it's not his fault that his father died just before completing the boy's training. Give him time. He will not disappoint. Granger's death is certain – we only need to wait."

"Of course her death is certain, we all will die eventually," Dolores grumbled.

"Why is her death so urgent anyway? Even without her death, our faction will still be able to achieve our goal."

"Marshall, I never knew you to be so dim," Dolores said exasperatedly. "The foundation for the current Ministry is the despicable Golden Trio, and the key to that trio is that mudblood. Take her out of the equation, and everything will fall apart. If we leave her alive, she can still provide intelligence support. I don't know if you're aware of this fact or not, but Potter has powers in the Auror department. Without his mudblood, he is all brawns. It will be much easier for you to get close to him and start to whisper into his ears, and, without the mudblood to realise something's changing, our faction can force Kingsley to resign and Potter will replace him. The Wizarding Saviour will be our Golden Boy, an obedient puppet without even noticing it."

"If you're so obsessed about it, then why won't you offer more meaningful sacrifices to the spirits? Being stingy will not help, you know."

Dolores snorted. "I will never offer my blood, if that's what you're trying to push me into doing. Besides, I still do not trust your damn wizard completely. What if somehow the mudblood managed to find out about the spirits? She'll be able to cure herself in no time."

"You and your paranoia," Marshall chuckled. "If, by some dumb luck, the mudblood figures out what ails her, it will still be too late. According to Lucas, the spirits will not stop until their target's blood dries up. Besides, there's no way she'll be able to track down Lucas. He assures me that the spirits' sender is not trackable. Therefore, you can relax. Well, I have to go and meet my wife before she starts suspecting I'm having affairs with you. No offense, Dolores, but I'd like to believe I can catch a more…desirable fish if I were to have affairs."

"One day you will pay for it, Marshall," Dolores' voice was colder than the temperature outside.

Marshall merely laughed.

Katarina heard the sounds of chairs being pushed back. She quickly stuffed her phone into her pocket and got to her feet, the Gameboy still in hand.

"Who do you think is more evil, miss? My esteemed colleague here or handsome me?" Marshall asked pleasantly.

Katarina's blood froze – did they know she was hearing to every single word?

"I don't think we are evil though, we're just brave enough to do dirty work for the advancement of mankind," Marshall did not give the waitress time to answer. Beside him, the ugly short woman just watched, her beady eyes emotionless.

In a swift motion, Marshall took out a short stick from his robes, muttered a strange word, and Katarina's eyes went blank.

She was confused. What was she doing? Who were these people in front of her?

The man in front of her looked at her in concern. "You seem exhausted, miss," he said softly. "I'm sorry we kept you this late. As our appreciation and apology, please keep the change." He placed a hundred-pound note on the counter. "May the grace of God be with you, my child," he bowed a little as he made the sign of the Cross. His companion, a creepy-looking nun, just looked at him strangely.

Katarina's eyes went wide at the note. She thanked the kind priests profusely and thanked the heavens for sending such kind spiritual workers on a gloomy day.

She glanced at her Gameboy – oh well, she had to load her saved game.

* * *

"Harry, what if Ginny gets mad at me?" Hermione tugged at her best friend's sleeve, anxiety filling her. They had just come out of the fireplace and were dusting themselves.

Harry turned his face to look at her and joked, "Are you telling me that my wife is more frightening than Voldemort and Bellatrix?"

Hermione replied with just raising an eyebrow. Harry's expression turned solemn.

"That was a stupid question, wasn't it?"

Next to Hermione, Fleur chuckled. "It will be fine," the blonde wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulder reassuringly, "Ginny might be angry at first but she loves you enough to forgive you. Don't you worry, my love, I will not let that fiery redhead unleash her wrath upon you."

"Fleur, if you can protect good ol' Hermione here from my wife, I will recommend your name to be an Auror Captain, what do you think?"

"Well Harry, while that is a very tempting offer, I have to say that I – "

Fleur's reply was cut off by a low, menacing growl, originating from the stairs.

"I don't know who you are and I don't even care one bit, but you break into the wrong house," Ginny's threatening voice reverberated around the house. "Just in case you're some clueless, bumbling idiots, this is Harry Potter's house. Yes, that's right, turn around now and begone before you start screaming for my husband to save you from my hands. I will literally rip your guts out before any Auror can save you. So scram!"

Hermione exchanged glances with Fleur. The blonde's dancing eyes were trying to hold back mirth. The brunette rolled her eyes.

"Um, babe? This is me, your husband," Harry said carefully, tentatively taking a step forward.

"My husband _never_ comes home early," Ginny said coldly. "How dare you try to impersonate him! I'll skin you alive!"

"Wait, wait, it's really me, I'm with Hermione and Fleur," Harry said hurriedly, panic on his face. Fleur placed her body between Hermione and the general direction of the stairs, shielding the brunette from the possibilities of Ginny being trigger-happy.

"He commands trained, skilled warriors but his wife commands him," Fleur whispered, eliciting a giggle from the brunette.

Harry threw a dirty look at them both, telling them he heard Fleur's words.

"Why would you be here with Hermione and Fleur? Do you think I'm an idiot?" Ginny's voice was full of suspicion.

"My favourite boxer is the one with purple dinosaurs holding sunflowers," Harry tried to say as softly as he could.

Hermione and Fleur's stifled guffaws earned them another dirty look from Harry.

Ginny did not reply to Harry identifying himself but a thud and a grunt later, a worried-looking, slightly dishevelled Ginny barged into the room, marching straight to her husband. Hermione chuckled. No matter her age, the redhead would not stop climbing and jumping over any and all staircases.

"Is everything alright, Harry? Why're you here? Has the Ministry blown up or something?" Ginny fussed all over her husband. Her attention then turned to the other couple who were watching the redhead. "Are the two of you alright? Is Hermione okay, Fleur?"

"I can answer for myself, you know," Hermione rolled her eyes.

Harry grabbed Ginny's arm gently before the redhead marched over to Hermione to inspect the brunette.

"Gin, come with me," he said quietly, pleading. "I need to tell you something – it's related to Hermione. But I need to speak with you in private first before you harass her."

"I do not harass Hermione!" Ginny protested indignantly. But she let her husband dragged her away upstairs without a fight. As they disappeared from the room, the redhead shot Hermione a concerned look.

Fleur led the anxious Hermione to the couch and they cuddled there in silence. The brunette clung tightly to her beloved, a million thoughts running through her mind. What would she do if Ginny yell at her later on? That would not be too bad considering the alternative of Ginny hating on her forever. If that happened, what would the brunette do? Could she win her best friend's affection back?

"You're thinking too much, it's deafening," Fleur said softly. "I can hear your thoughts, Hermione."

The brunette looked up, surprised.

"Not literally," Fleur added. "But please, stop overthinking things, my love. It won't do you any good."

Hermione exhaled and closed her eyes. Fleur was right. Worrying will not change anything – it was all in Harry's hands now.

"You've had years of practice of winging it, Hermione," Fleur murmured, giving a reassuring kiss on the brunette's forehead. "You'll be fine. Please, stop worrying about it, alright? I don't want you to get another attack."

The brunette nodded. Fleur was right. She must calm down and not give in to the sinking, depressing, hopeless feelings that were gnawing at her. Hermione tried to distract her mind and think of happier thoughts. But she was momentarily at a loss. What kind of thoughts would make her happy? Passages from the timeless favourite of hers, _Hogwarts: A History_ , did nothing to soothe her worries. The thoughts of books did not brighten her at all. She frowned. Once this whole thing was over, she should go see a psychiatrist to help her reacquaint with books.

Hermione's mind wandered to the warmth against her skin, the gentle comfort exuding from the creature beside her.

Of course.

Fleur.

The one person who managed to squeeze through the crevices of her heart and made a home there. Thinking of Fleur did cheer her up considerably.

Hermione nuzzled Fleur's neck.

"I love you," the brunette whispered.

"And I you," came the reply.

"Have I told you that the both of you managed to be disgusting and adorable at the same time?" Ginny asked conversationally from the doorway. She strolled in casually, her husband a step behind her.

Hermione tried to gauge the redhead's mood, but Ginny gave nothing away. Harry refused to look at Hermione, making her anxiety skyrocket. Fleur, sensing this, made soothing sounds at the brunette's ears.

"Um Gin, I can explain – "

But Ginny cut off the brunette, pouncing on the terrified woman and hugged her tightly.

"By Merline's balls, I swear I will personally hunt that toad myself and skin her alive," Ginny was in her pissed off, battle mode. "I will tear off her eyes and stuff burning charcoals into her eye sockets. I will tie her up, and with her skin flayed off, I'll drown her in a bathtub full of salt water. I'll break her bones one by one. I'll cut off her nose. I'll –"

Harry cleared his throat.

"Well yeah you get the gist of it," Ginny rolled her eyes at her retreating husband. She released her death grip on Hermione and sat next to the brunette who was still half-clinging on Fleur.

The brunette studied Ginny's face and saw nothing but worry. There was no hatred or anger directed at her. That frightened Hermione more than it should.

"Are you…angry at me, Gin?" the brunette asked carefully.

"Why would I be mad at you?" Ginny frowned. "I mean, let's see… You ran away and shut off yourself from everyone, making people speculate and wonder whether we've done something to offend you. You're in pain but refused to tell any of us because you distrust us. You lied to us. To me. To everyone." Ginny's calm and expressionless voice freaked Hermione out. The brunette gripped Fleur's hand tightly, asking for strength.

"I'm sorry Gin, it was just – "

"It was just what, 'Mione? That you didn't really think about it? That you overthought it? What is it? Come on, tell me. I want to hear it straight from you."

"I… I was afraid you'd think Voldemort somehow managed to possess me," Hermione answered in a small voice.

Ginny stared at Hermione disbelievingly. The next moment, the redhead laughed. She laughed until her tears came. She clutched her sides.

"For the love of Merlin, you actually said it out loud! That's the second most ridiculous thing I've heard after Harry thought that noseless baldy possessed him," Ginny chortled, wiping the tears away.

Hermione suddenly felt extremely foolish. She looked at the intertwined hers and Fleur's.

"If good ol' baldy is still alive, don't you think Harry would be able to tell? He's lost his ability to speak Parseltongue. Doesn't that tell you something?"

Hermione looked up to Harry in surprise. "What? You've never told me that, Harry."

Harry smiled sheepishly. "I thought my brain was damaged or something. Didn't want to worry you. It was only a couple of years ago, in your absence, that I realised the significance of that. Sorry 'Mione."

"This wart called my husband didn't even tell me until one drunken night, being so miserable, confessed to me about it. You know what? The two of you – no – the three of you of the Golden Trio have communications problem. You shared life and death, yet won't share your worries. You, Ron, and Harry. It pisses me off sometimes. Ron has been having his stupid mood swings ever since you came back and won't admit that he still has feelings for you. Harry tends to drown himself in his work as a penance for not killing Voldemort sooner. Like… who the hell would expect a bleeding underage teenager to defeat a monster? And you, missy, you ran off with your thoughts and became a hermit somewhere. All three of you are selfish pricks. You are more selfish than Pansy and her stupid dictator-like Quidditch training schedules. I couldn't even eat my favourite foods until the season ends!"

"Um, honey…"

"I am not done with my rant, dear husband," Ginny gave Harry a reproachful look and he retreated immediately. She returned her focus on Hermione. "Yes, you are such a selfish prick for not allowing your own friends to help you out when you need it most. You could've died, you ass! Have you ever considered how guilty we'd all feel if you die and we know we're unable to even help you one bit?"

"Sorry, Gin," Hermione tried to make herself as small as she possibly could.

The redhead exhaled. "I don't want your apologies. I want you to get better. Look 'Mione, I am not mad at you. If anything, I'm angry at that stupid pink toad. I'm so sorry I've never really noticed that you're having serious problems, 'Mione. I thought you're just like the rest of us, trying to cope and deal with the war. The horrors we saw, the things we went through…none of us could be fully healed. I'm so sorry, I haven't been a great friend. Harry showed me everything. I'm… please let me make it up to you. I promise I'll be a better friend."

Hermione could not believe her ears. Ginny was not angry at her. In fact, the redhead did not seem to be judging her either!

"So…you're not afraid of me?" the brunette asked, her brilliant mind trying to process that information.

"Oh please, I'm a professional athlete, fit and at the top of my form. You're just a skinny, out-of-shape witch," Ginny rolled her eyes.

Hermione threw herself on Ginny and hugged the redhead tightly, squeezing the life force out of her.

"Thank you, Gin," the brunette whispered. "I won't know what to do if you hate me."

"You're just being silly," murmured Ginny. "I hope this gets into that massive, overworked mind of yours: none of us, none of your friends who've faced death with you, would dare to walk away from your life without a damn good reason. And that reason better be death itself."

Hermione was touched. She was relieved. She still had her friend.

"Now, my hands are extremely itchy and I desperately need to skin a certain pink toad alive," Ginny said in a business-like manner, disentangling herself gently from Hermione's hug. "I am appointing myself as the boss for our current project and I do not accept any dissent because my word is law. Is that understood?"

None of them dared to shake their heads.

"Good," the redhead rubbed her hands excitedly. "Fleur, take your girlfriend away and keep her emotions high. I know a few fantastic adult shops if you need them."

"Wh..what do you mean by that?" Hermione sputtered.

"My word is law, 'Mione, you heard me," Ginny frowned. "Your job, Miss Granger, is to stick to Fleur all the time. And I mean it. All. The. Bloody. Time. Especially if you feel down, understood?"

Without waiting for reply, Ginny returned her focus on Fleur. "Fleur, owl me every day. I don't care if that means you have to walk out of Hermione's property just to send and receive an owl, but I demand news and letters at least once a day. Or else I'll be demanding blood."

In response, Fleur just rolled her eyes elegantly.

"Harry and I will start recruiting and doing whatever else we need to be doing. Sorry, 'Mione, not telling you anything. Just relax and leave it in our hands, alright?"

The redhead then leaned back and, with a sinister smile, whispered, "Let the toad hunt begin!


	12. Monopoly

**_Hi everyone! Thank you so much for your encouraging reviews. I am really happy you guys like the story._**

 ** _So here's another chapter and I hope you enjoy it._**

 ** _Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter_**

 ** _PS: I've just realised I have quite a number of grammatical and spelling errors in the previous chapters. I'll get to them as soon as my laziness evaporates. Many apologies if there are many such annoying errors in this chapter as well._**

* * *

The steady rhythm of Fleur's breathing helped Hermione to focus her thoughts amongst the sea of her scattered mind. It was a quarter past midnight and the brunette still could not sleep. But it was not due to the soul eaters.

Hermione was still reeling from the events of the previous day. It was a roller coaster of emotions. Facing Harry and Ginny wrecked her nerves and she could feel her shoulders were still rather tense. She was sure she'd lost her friends, but aside from Ginny's mini rant (felt more like a lecture) the whole thing was not too bad. In fact, it gave Hermione confidence to open up more.

And it was all because of Fleur.

Were it not for the blonde's persistence and stubborn attitude of 'I must have it my way', Hermione would never find out about the soul eaters. She'd never mend her relationship with her best friends (well, with Harry and Ginny for the moment at least). She'd never get out of the miserable hole she dug ages ago. She'd never felt happy again.

Hermione kissed Fleur's neck gently, not wanting to wake the sleeping blonde. Laying her head on the blonde's shoulder, Hermione stared at the peaceful face of her lover, smiling as she did so. For the umpteenth time, the brunette thanked the universe for sending Fleur into her life. The blonde had proven she would be by Hermione's side through thick and thin, including the coming ordeal when the sun rose in the morning.

Before they left Grimmauld Place, Ginny demanded access to The Lake. Naturally, that got the redhead and the brunette into a heated argument. Hermione had been adamant that The Lake was hers and hers only, and Fleur was the only person allowed access. The brunette did not want her only refuge, her only safe space, to be in danger of being swamped. Of course, Ginny refused to budge, claiming that she did not want to leave Hermione an option to hide away for weeks and months without any way to barge in and drag the brunette to safety.

Their argument lasted for nearly an hour before Fleur intervened and played the role of mediator-cum-negotiator. To Ginny, at least. To Hermione's exasperation, the blonde just took charge as per usual. And the most irritating part? The brunette could not get angry at Fleur, much as she would like to.

So there she was, counting down the last hours of privacy and seclusion because when morning comes, Hermione would be popping into Grimmauld Place to bring Harry and Ginny to The Lake for breakfast.

She sighed. Only a person in love would allow their loved ones to turn their world upside down. She happened to be that idiot now.

Six more hours to go.

* * *

"I'm sorry if my wife is forceful, 'Mione, but you don't have to do this if you don't want to," Harry said quietly, watching his wife rummaging the cupboard across the room.

"Honestly, I'm not keen on this idea Harry but maybe it's time I start to re-open up to my best friends," Hermione shrugged.

"Fleur won't give in, right?"

Hermione sighed. "I don't even know why I let her win all the time. It's like she hypnotises me."

"The great Hermione Granger gets seduced by a beautiful woman. She is a mortal after all. What a surprise."

Hermione swatted his arm. "Prat."

Ginny wandered over to them, finally finding the item she had been looking for. "Sorry for the wait, guys, but I'm ready."

"How can you even misplace your wand, Gin? You sure are getting old," Hermione commented as the walked to the foyer.

"It's thanks to Mister I-Can't-Wait-Let's-Just-Do-It-Now here," Ginny threw her husband a dirty look. "I told him to at least put my wand in a safe place first but no, he just had to do it there and then right after you both left. Did you know that he was doing the – "

"I don't want to know, Gin, I swear I don't want to know," Hermione cut her off, hands covering her delicate ears. "It's bad enough I have terrifying nightmares when I sleep. I don't want my waking moments to be scarred for life as well."

"I'm not sure whether I should be insulted by that or not," remarked Harry. Seeing Ginny's gleeful face, he quickly added, "Though I don't want anyone to know my sex life."

"You both are no fun," the redhead snorted. "Alright missy, time to show us you sex bunk."

"It's not a sex bunk!" Hermione protested. "And no, I will not discuss about my sex life." She grabbed the Potters' hands and, half a turn later, Apparated to The Lake.

The looks of admiration and wonder made Hermione's chest puffed up a little. She knew how they felt – the majestic mountains and hills as backdrop with the gentle breeze that made one instantly felt at home. The tranquil lake with its sparkling light blue waters bordering on being transparent making one just wanted to be drowned by the waters. And the small wooden cabin, as if added as an afterthought, promising adventure and escape from the misery that was life. That was how Hermione felt when she first saw the property – minus the little cabin and jetty, of course.

With a squeal that definitely did not sound like Ginevra Potter nee Weasley, the redhead dragged Hermione to the jetty. Upon reaching the end of the jetty, Ginny released the brunette's hand and fell to her knees, hands deep in the water.

"Where are the little fishies, 'Mione?" Ginny asked excitedly. "Where are they?"

Hermione, who had been struggling to keep up with the athletic witch's run, was flat on the jetty, trying to catch her breath. The run, though short in distance, was far more demanding than when she was running away from the Snatchers.

"No…fish," it took all of the brunette's energy to form words.

"What? No little fishies? What kind of savage are you, 'Mione?" Ginny snorted her disapproval.

As a reply, Hermione just flipped the finger.

"What, is Fleur not enough to satisfy you?" snickered the redhead.

Hermione just groaned.

"I don't know how Fleur find that particular sound sexy but oh well, whatever floats her boat," Ginny said conversationally. She loomed above Hermione who just stared daggers at the redhead and helped the brunette to her feet. "C'mon, 'Mione, Harry's already gone. I think he's inside with Fleur now. Give me a tour!"

Hermione shook her head at her friend's antics. She sometimes forgot how child-like Ginny could become when the redhead got excited. Often, Ginny could rival a child getting a sack full of candies on Christmas. That reminded Hermione that Christmas was not that far away. Perhaps a sack full of candies would be a fantastic gift for the redhead.

" _Come on,_ 'Mione!" Ginny tugged at Hermione's arm, pulling the brunette away from her musings.

"There are no Hippogriffs on fire chasing after us, 'Gin," Hermione sighed.

"But there could be some that are on their way to chase after us," countered the redhead.

Idiotic, meaningless banters with Ginny brought the brunette back to a far happier time, when they were still in Hogwarts. How could this woman still able to push forward with a smile on her face and crass jokes spewing from her mouth? The Weasleys lost a lot, but none of it pulled the redhead back. Hermione decided she'd ask Ginny about it when she had the chance.

Ginny oohed and ah-ed at every nook and corner Hermione showed her. The brunette was slightly embarrassed at having a very ordinary cabin as a house. Maybe it was time to fix up the place. Knowing the redhead, she'd insist on dropping by all the time. And, god forbid (but Hermione would not be surprised if it actually happen) that the redhead come dragging all of their friends. No. An unkempt, extremely ordinarily small cabin would not suffice. It was bad enough that they'd know about the soul killers that were plaguing her. It would be worse if they pitied her living conditions and felt the need to donate things to her. The horror.

"Oh come on, woman, don't be shy with me," Ginny nudged her ribs gently. "Just tell me, I'm _dying_ to know!"

"What about?" Hermione rubbed the injured spot. The redhead needed to learn that not everyone was a Quidditch player and able to take a nudging with the force of a million elephants behind it.

Ginny rolled her eyes and huffed. "You were not even listening, were you? Sex. With Fleur. How good is she?"

Predictably, Hermione blushed. She glanced around. There were only the two of them in Hermione's bedroom. Harry and Fleur must be chatting somewhere else. Harry had an amazingly sharp sixth sense when it came to his wife going to start harassing Hermione with weird questions. Not wanting to take side lest the other got mad at him, the Boy Who Lived would just disappear from the immediate vicinity.

"And why are you so obsessed to know about it, Gin? What the heck is wrong with you?"

"Oh come on, I couldn't be gossiping about your sex life when you were dating my brother. That would be gross! I've always wanted to have stupid girly talk with you, 'Mione, and now that you're not dating my brother, it's my time to shine!"

Hermione sighed. Whenever she regretted not having siblings, those regrets disappeared fast as soon as Ginny came around and asked her never-ending weird questions. If she were ever to have children, it would be merciful to only have one. Hopefully Fleur would agree with her. Wait – it was too soon to even think of having children with Fleur.

Mistaking the nature of Hermione's blush, Ginny insisted, "Was it amazing? Great? Bad? Clingy? Barely any orgasm? Taking too long? Too short?"

Hermione groaned. "Sex is sex, Gin. You know how sex feels like. There you go."

Ginny cocked her head to the side and studied Hermione thoughtfully. "I can't believe you haven't had sex with that smoking morsel yet. You're even a bigger idiot than I thought, 'Mione." Leaning closer, the redhead whispered conspiratorially, "You don't need penis for sex, 'Mione. You can use fingers."

Hermione's red face reddened even further. "It's not about that, Gin! Gah! I can't believe I'm actually discussing this with you."

"Well the faster you tell me, the faster my incessant questioning stops," Ginny advised sagely.

Hermione sighed and walked over to her bed. Sitting on it, she plucked at the random strand of thread of her bedsheet.

"I want it to be special, okay?" she confessed. "I want to do it without a bunch of ghostly creatures watching everything. I'm not into voyeurism of any kind, except maybe watching Fleur pleasuring herself and I can't believe I've just told you that. Well, I want it to be fully me, instead of me plus parasites. Do you get what I mean?"

Ginny sat next to Hermione and placed a sympathising hand on the brunette's shoulder.

"Yes 'Mione, I do get it," the redhead said softly. "Which is why I'm here to help you. I'm not here to judge you or make your life miserable. I know you're not entirely happy with us being in your house, but your happiness doesn't originate from you, 'Mione. Your feelings and emotions are being influenced by those tadpoles."

"Tadpoles?" Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah, they're that pink toad's creatures right? So they're tadpoles."

The brunette giggled.

"As I was saying, this is not the real you. I hope you realise it, 'Mione," Ginny said seriously, all traces of playfulness gone. "Which is why you must not be alone at all. They're in you for far too long that you don't even know what you really want anymore. By having Fleur and the rest of us with you all the time, we can counter their influence on you. I'm sorry if you won't have much privacy, but it's just for the next, oh I dunno, month or two. I promise you this will be over soon, 'Mione." The glint of mischief was back. "And you can finally have sex with that hot chick."

Hermione was not sure whether to curse or thank Harry. During breakfast, he offhandedly told the brunette to prepare a fun indoor game for twelve people for the coming Friday night. He realised his mistake when Hermione just stared at him in silence, not truly computing his words.

"Er didn't Ginny tell you?" he asked carefully, exchanging a glance at his wife, who kept an innocent expression.

"Tell me what?" Hermione's voice was deceptively calm. If Ginny was volunteering Hermione for some weird activity without the brunette's permission, she swore she would strangle the redhead to death.

"That you're having guests this coming Friday, 'Mione dear," Ginny answered sweetly. "A belated housewarming party – can you call it a party if only twelve people attend?"

"Ginny," warned the brunette.

"Plus you need to talk to the rest of your friends and explain to them properly about the whole situation," the redhead added. "Yes Harry and I are going to meet them today right after this, but they'd want to talk about it with you, 'Mione. And also, I bet you'd want us to update you on our little toad hunting party. So, this Friday night."

Hermione groaned. She wanted to bang her head on the table. This was too soon. She had not even redecorated her cabin.

"Who are coming?" Fleur asked, sounding slightly excited. Hermione sighed. If the blonde was in support of this idea, then the brunette lost automatically. Fleur only needed to bat an eye and Hermione would cave in. This was not fair.

"Me, Ginny, the two of you, Ron, Luna, George, Neville, Pansy, Draco, Lavender, and Gabrielle," Harry counted off.

"Draco? Gabrielle?" both Fleur and Hermione asked at the same time.

"His fault – not mine," Ginny sipped her juice, happily throwing the task of defending that decision to her husband.

"Well er," Harry visibly squirmed in his seat, "it's complicated. An accident, I swear. I, uh, went to Pansy's this morning before you came, wanting to ask her to let Ginny skip training for a few weeks. At first I didn't tell her the exact reason, just saying that there's a big sensitive case requiring Ginny's skills but she demanded official letter from the Minister himself. Saying something about Ginny needing to honour her contract including not skipping training without a clear and valid reason, etc. We argued until I finally swore her to secrecy and I told her that you're in trouble and you urgently need help. So Ginny got her leave on the condition that Pansy helps out."

"She is one hell of a crazy persuasive bitch," muttered Ginny darkly. The memories of rigorous training haunted her every moment. "It's a good thing she was a stupid, useless crap when good ol' Voldy was alive."

Sometimes Hermione was not sure whether Ginny was actually genuinely happy to be friends with Pansy or not.

"Well anyway," continued Harry, "I didn't realise we were shouting when we argued, and that Draco was staying over for the night. He and his um, girlfriend, overheard us and demanded to be included to help you out also, 'Mione. I personally think Draco wants to atone for his years of being an ass towards you."

Hermione groaned and massaged the bridge of her nose. Draco Malfoy, of all people, will get involved in the 'toad hunting'.

"And both him and his girlfriend threatened to leak it out to the world that you're in danger if they're not allowed to help," Harry added.

The brunette sighed. "Who is this girlfriend of his? Let me guess – Lavender?"

Harry swallowed and fidgeted. When he answered, he dared not look at Fleur and mumbled.

"We can't hear you, Harry dear," Fleur sighed. "Neither Hermione nor I will get angry at you. We trust your judgment. If you think Draco and his girlfriend are trustworthy enough to be allowed to help even though it's by accident, we trust you. Right, Hermione?"

The brunette nodded. "While I'm not entirely happy about it, but I do trust your judgment Harry."

"Gabrielle."

There was a moment of tensed, shocked silence before Fleur started to exclaim in rapid French, too fast for even Hermione to make out a word aside from the 'mon dieu' at the beginning.

"I don't know anything about that," he answered Hermione's questioning looks.

"Neither do I but that is such an interesting gossip, don't you think?" Ginny commented. "I mean, who'd have guessed those two would end up together? I can already imagine their little devilish offspring: exceedingly gorgeous, with too much money for their own good, and luring pure, innocent souls into their silken sheets."

"Please don't say such crude thing about my unborn nieces and nephews," groaned Fleur. Hermione patted the blonde's back in sympathy. Fleur continued to mutter incomprehensibly in her native tongue.

"And if you're wondering about the rest, well, I owled them early this morning and each of them replied immediately, including Ron," Ginny explained.

So there Hermione was, two hours after the Potters had left, on the brink of having a panic attack, trying to think of a fun activity for twelve adults to reduce awkward silences and uncomfortable pities. Friday was just two days away, and Hermione was not ready in the slightest for it.

"Fleur, why am I focusing on thinking of a stupid game instead of trying to redecorate the house or something?"

The blonde pulled Hermione into her embrace and said gently, "Calm down, Hermione. Your house looks just fine. It is perfect. Don't worry your pretty head about it. They'll be more interested about your life instead of whether the walls' paints are coming off or not."

Fleur had a point. Hermione would not care about Harry's house whenever she visited him – she only wanted to hang out and chat with him, not admiring or criticizing his house.

"It is much more productive for you to find a fun game that all twelve of us can join, while I prepare our dinner menu," continued Fleur.

Hermione wrecked her brains, trying to find inspiration. She refused to have anything Quidditch-related, including Quidditch trivia. Wait – holding a trivia night sounded fun. But she knew everyone would protest. Nobody liked it when Hermione set the trivia questions – they complained those were too difficult for the average human mind to even fathom. Nobody liked it when Hermione was playing either – whoever were not on her team were guaranteed a loss.

What about UNO? Surely that could include twelve people? But Hermione did not like that game. She never won. So UNO was out.

Then an idea formed in her head. What if she modified a pretty popular muggle game and make it wizard-style?

"Fleur! We have to go out!" Hermione jumped from her seat and dragged the surprised blonde out of the house. Moments later, they Disapparated.

"Uh where are we, Hermione?" Fleur did not recognise this part of busy muggle England. She looked cautiously at her surrounding, with cars honking, people walking all around on their phones, and different types of music blaring from different sources.

"The shops," the brunette explained. "I just had this awesome idea. But I need to buy a sample to base it on."

"Okay," Fleur did not understand what Hermione was trying to say but walked beside her girlfriend, following the brunette.

The blonde just watched Hermione with interest and did not say a word until less than ten minutes later, they returned home.

"So... mind telling me what's going on?" Fleur asked, observing an excited Hermione tearing open the plastic cover of a rectangle box, taking out its contents and spreading them all over the living room floor.

"Wizarding Monopoly for twelve. I'm thinking of basing the locations on major English wizarding places like Gringgotts, Hogwarts, the Ministry and other significant historical places. Instead of going to jail, people go to Azkaban."

"Azkaban?" Fleur frowned. Why was Hermione excited about such an insane-sounding game?

"Not the real Azkaban, but the Monopoly Azkaban," explained the brunette. "I'll add more locations to the board than the standard version to fit twelve people. And I'll charm each plot so that whenever someone buys a house, one tiny house will appear by itself. Oh! I think I'll charm the pawns so that they move by themselves. It'll be easier than getting in people's way and it will prevent people crashing into other people's properties."

Fleur chuckled and shook her head. It had been a long time since she saw Hermione that excited. Fleur could not even remember the last time. Was it at Hogwarts? While the blonde still did not understand a word Hermione said, she was happy to see her lover finally had a spark of life in her.

Fleur knelt next to the brunette who was talking to herself and kissed the brunette's forehead gently. "Have fun, sweetheart."

Hermione barely registered the kiss, so focused she was. Ideas after ideas went through her mind. She Accio-ed a parchment and a quill, and started listing all her thoughts and ideas for the Wizarding Monopoly. It had been a long time, too long, since she felt such a rush of excitement and giddiness from planning and thinking.

* * *

At first, the gathering felt awkward. Nobody knew what to say to Hermione. They (minus Fleur and the Potters) did not know what to say. It was not until Luna, in her classic way of saying the most outrageous thing, told Hermione that 'Delacour girls are fantastic. Great choice, Hermione' that the ice finally melted. That got the whole room exploded, and Gabrielle admitted for having a casual fling with Luna a few weeks before the latter started dating Ron.

That eased the tension for Hermione, and little by little she felt at ease again amongst her friends (and former enemies). The teasing and banters came, making everyone forgot that there was a serious matter on hand.

After dinner (unlike Ginny, Fleur did not cook random dishes) the mood turned serious. Hermione apologised to everyone for lying and running away. One by one, the others said their apologies as well. When Ron said his heartfelt apology, both him and Hermione burst into tears and Fleur got worried her lover would get another bout of attack. Fortunately, that did not occur. Even Gabrielle said her apologies (for getting involved without invitation and intruding Fleur and Hermione's private lives).

Before they moved on to the war planning and discussion, they had a go at Hermione's Wizarding Monopoly. Nobody was surprised when the game was down to a fierce fight between Draco, George and Pansy. Everybody groaned when Pansy ultimately won – they were rooting for Draco to win, since both George and Pansy ruthlessly bankrupted everybody else. Hermione had never felt happier, seeing how invested everyone was in her version of Monopoly. She had forgotten how it felt to plan for something to the most minute of details that everybody enjoyed. She loved that feeling.

During the war planning, Ginny took charge. She was hell-bent on revenge and dishing out the most painful punishment on one particular Dolores Umbridge. The redhead divided them into groups and gave out missions (Fleur's was the most important – to keep Hermione happy). Hermione was irritated that nobody would back her up to get involved in the hunting and the eventual fight. She did not want to just stay still and wait for news. She wanted to be involved. Alas, nobody would see things from her point of view.

The brunette sulked, unhappy that even Draco got an important mission (as a businessman, he had a vast network of extremely useful contacts): to figure out Umbridge's most likely hidden and illegal properties. With a part-Veela teaming up with him, they planned to seduce and coax information left and right.

Hermione brightened up slightly when Ginny promised to update the brunette at least thrice weekly. Waiting maddened the brunette. She hated waiting and being unable to do anything. But fortunately, she had her beautiful lover to accompany her during the wait. That should lessen the annoyance.


	13. Escalation

**_Apologies for the delay. But here's another chapter and I hope you like it._**

 ** _Usual disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter._**

* * *

Hermione stared listlessly at the clouds that were slowly forming above the mountains. It would be a gloomy and depressingly cold afternoon. She sighed. The brunette leaned back against the comfortable couch and hummed a tuneless song. She glanced at Fleur who was sitting at the table, writing a reply to Ginny's owl.

It had been three weeks since the twelve of them had the gathering. Since then, Hermione barely saw any of them (aside from Fleur, of course). Ginny had been keeping to her promise of updating them regularly. The redhead had been in daily communications with Fleur. However, Hermione was not allowed to read the letters for fear of triggering negative emotions, which the witch accepted begrudgingly. She could only get information from Fleur's own mouths. Fortunately for the brunette, Fleur was indulging and patiently answered Hermione's questions, sometimes giving repetitive answers, until the brunette was satisfied enough to let the blonde write a reply.

The past three weeks had been quiet and peaceful for Hermione. There was only one attack which was a miraculous record, and that was triggered accidentally when Hermione, in the course of trying to open a jar of chocolate cookies that Fleur baked earlier in the day, somehow managed to let the jar slip from her hands, resulting the jar and its delicious contents smashed to the floor. The shock triggered an attack and it took Fleur three hours to stabilise Hermione.

Today Hermione woke up early enough to enjoy a romantic sunrise cuddled with Fleur at the jetty, a cup of hot cocoa in hand. The brunette could not fall asleep again after breakfast. She had been lazing around and dozing off for the past three weeks while Fleur engrossed herself in Hermione's impressive collection of books. So this morning Hermione tried to do the same, hoping her love for reading returned.

The brunette decided to start by re-reading her old-time favourite _Hogwarts: A History_ while her lover wrote a reply to Ginny's letter which was giving a brief summary of what the Toad Hunters (that was the name the redhead gave, which Neville half-heartedly accepted– he felt it was insulting to his toad, Trevor) were going to do today. According to Fleur, they were going to have a short meeting and divide a list of known acquaintances of Umbridge among themselves to investigate.

But Hermione just could not focus on the book and after struggling to finish the second paragraph of the first page she gave up and tossed the book aside rather carelessly. That earned a stern look from Fleur which the brunette ignored and the latter went to the windows and just stared at nothing in particular.

She sighed again.

The sounds of quill scratching against the parchment constantly brought Hermione back to her Seventh Year. That year had been quite a lonely one for the brunette, with Harry and Ron deciding against returning to school. That was the year Hermione got close to Ginny, and somehow the redhead managed to loosened Hermione from her strict studying schedule. But in return, befriending Hermione resulted in the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain spending so much time in the library (but not as much as Hermione would like to). The closer they were to the examinations, the more time they spent at the library, writing in silence, accompanied only by the sounds of quill scratching the parchment.

Hermione sighed yet again.

"That's the seventeenth time you sighed today, Hermione, and it is not even ten o'clock yet," Fleur finally broke the silence. She was securing the letter to Harry's owl, who was staring at Hermione accusatorily. Hermione glared at the owl back defensively.

Hermione returned to staring out the window, mumbling she was alright.

It was Fleur's turn to sigh.

The blonde approached Hermione and put her arms around the brunette, enveloping her lovingly.

"What's the matter, Hermione? What's bothering you?"

Hermione exhaled before looking up at Fleur.

"I'm bored, Fleur," she confessed. "I'm restless. I want to do something but I don't know what. I can't focus on reading even a short paragraph. I can't fall asleep. I just… I don't know. I know I've been holing myself in this place for over one year but Merlin, I am bored." She was close to tears.

"Why didn't you say so earlier? Tell you what, go and change your clothes and let's roam around muggle London for a bit. We'll be away from magic and its worries, and you can show me a lot of weird muggle inventions."

Hermione liked that idea. She kissed Fleur's jaw and whispered a 'thank you' before disappearing to her room to change.

* * *

The streets of Diagon Alley were at its usual busyness – not quite jam packed, but not quite empty either. Blame the ongoing semester for that. Christmas decorations and sales signs were already up even though December had not started yet. Ron grumbled about the ridiculousness of it all and complained of the same Christmas songs being played over and over again. But when he looked at his companion who was busy gawking at the streets and the wonders they offered, he chuckled.

"You look as if you've never been here, Nev," Ron was amused.

"At this time of the year, I'm usually at Hogwarts, Ron," Neville explained, never taking his eyes off the shop windows as they passed them. "I used to be a student, but now I'm a Professor."

"Tell me again, what kind of tale did you tell McGonagall that she's willing to let you off on an indefinite leave?" McGonagall was nothing if not a strict Headmistress, not only to her students, but also to her staff.

"I told her Hermione needs my help and it's urgent."

"And she did not question that?" Ron was in awe. The wizarding world still held a deep respect for the brilliant brunette, even after all this time of hiding.

"Strangely enough, no," Neville was still amazed by the conversation he had with the Headmistress. He had been nervous and could not think of a perfectly good excuse to have his one-month emergency leave approved. At first he thought of faking a sickness but then his ancient grandmother would find out about it and panicked (Neville would be the one panicking trying to deal with his grandmother's wrath). Neville was never a good liar anyway. So he decided to just tell McGonagall the truth and hoped for the best. But instead of given approval for a month of emergency leave, the Headmistress gave him "all the time required to help Hermione Granger".

Neville still had his job, and at the same time he could help his friend. But that did not mean he could not gawk at Diagon Alley without the rest of Hogwarts bumping into him at every corner.

"Come to think of it, that's not really surprising since 'Mione is the only one who could satisfy McGonagall's unnecessarily difficult homework," Ron remarked, steering Neville who was fascinated with trinkets displayed on a hawker's blue blanket.

But the fascinated man resisted.

"Let me indulge myself for a bit, Ron," Nev said apologetically.

"Ginny will have my head if we're late," Ron groaned, checking his pocket watch. They needed to pick up the gang's breakfast and be at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes in fifteen minutes' time for their meeting. They were already running late as it was, and Neville's indulgence were not helping. Ron wished he'd asked someone else to accompany him grab their food. Even Malfoy would be better. The blond would be a silent and efficient companion, although it would take everything Ron had to restrain himself from starting a fight with Malfoy. The mutual hatred would always be there.

Ron sighed and tapped his foot impatiently while Neville fiddled around with the trinkets. Some of the items looked familiar to Ron – he recalled his father owned a few of those, kept at The Burrow's shed.

"They're just random useless muggle items, Nev," Ron called out, hoping to persuade his friend to move on. "Dad has some of those and they never work. There's even this small square-shaped black thing with numbers on them that the guy who sold it to dad swore to be a portable fellytone. He lied. It's as good as a rock."

"Fellytone? Oh you must mean telephone, sir, and I have a few of those portable telephones you mentioned," the hawker eagerly grabbed a few mobile phones and shoved them under Ron's nose.

The redhead took several steps back and shook his head. "Not falling for that, mate. You can trick my dad, but you can't trick me."

The hawker was crestfallen but recovered quickly. He put them back on his blanket and took a silver one and went to Neville.

"Sir, this is an authentic muggle portable telephone, an item that allows you to talk to someone far away instantly," the hawker opened the flip phone and pressed random buttons. The screen was still on and Neville took it from the man with interest.

"How do you operate this thing?" Neville asked, curious.

"Just press it and pray to the air gods and if your prayers are answered, you will reach the person you have in mind instantly."

Ron snorted. "He doesn't know how to use it either, Nev."

"I beg your pardon, sir? The muggles are ingenuous. I promise you that is how it is operated," the hawker replied.

Some happy tunes came out of the phone.

"Wha – how is this – what do I do?" Neville asked in panic, pressing buttons at random in the hope to stop it.

"Pray to the gods, good sir, pray to the gods," the hawker pleaded earnestly. He immediately fell to his knees, clasped his hands and muttered prayers.

Ron, while not knowing much about muggle technology, was confident that the gods had nothing to do with their problem at hand.

"Smash it against the wall maybe?" he suggested helpfully.

Whatever Neville pressed stopped the happy tunes from playing out and now a female's voice came out of the item.

"See, I told you, it works!" the hawker thanked the gods and rose to his feet again.

"But I was thinking of talking to my girlfriend and that's not her voice," Neville's face was a mixture of amazement and fear.

"You have a girlfriend?" Ron was surprised.

Neville pressed something again and the voice stopped speaking. Now the sounds of farts and a group of people laughing came out of the item. Ron furrowed his eyebrows. What the heck.

"I definitely was not thinking of talking to a group of people who fart that loudly," Neville muttered.

As he pressed again, the sounds changed. This time, a male voice was heard. But it was soft.

"Nev, we really have to go before Ginny murders us." Ron grabbed Neville's arm firmly and started marching away but what he heard next froze him to the spot.

"….Granger's death…"

He looked at Neville who stared back at him, wide-eyes. The hawker, who missed it, was talking away and shoving his goods to them, hoping they would buy something.

"…Golden Trio…"

"Nev, make it talk louder," urged Ron.

"I'm trying," Neville scrunched his face and fiddled with the phone, trying to understand how to increase the volume. But whatever he pressed stopped the voice and the screen now displayed a smiling young woman with a tabby cat.

"No, no, get it to repeat whatever it said!" Ron turned to look at the hawker, "How do you make this thing repeat what it just said?"

"As I told you, sir, pray to the gods and – "

Ron felt like screaming at the useless hawker. He fished some coins from his pocket, threw them at the hawker, and yanked Neville away forcefully.

"We really need to get going, keep the change," Ron called at the hawker who thanked them profusely.

"Ron, we might need to him get this thing to talk again," Neville protested.

"Harry used to live with the muggles. I'm sure he can figure it out. Come on, I want to know what that guy was saying."

The whole situation with Hermione made Ron very paranoid. Every little thing that hinted at Hermione's demise, or even things that were remotely connected to Hermione made him jumpy. He was desperate to save his best friend. They were all desperate for that. They had been stuck trying to hunt for Umbridge and were at their collective wits' end. Racing against time was never his favourite activity, especially when the wager was the life of someone that he cared very much about. He knew this portable fellytone might be just another dead end but he did not want to leave any stone unturned.

They were just three minutes' late when they arrived at George's shop. They stormed into the back room and Ron went past the irritated Ginny and shoved the phone into Harry's hand.

"We heard a guy talking about 'Mione's death and something about the Golden Trio. I don't know how to get the guy to talk again, Harry."

The Boy Who Lived looked at Ron in bewilderment. The redhead took a deep breath and tried to explain again, this time telling the story from the beginning. He wanted to scream at everyone – explaining everything was a waste of time. He needed to know what the man said, dammit!

"Ah, it must be a recording," Harry flipped the phone open and fiddled with the button. "I'm surprised the battery hasn't run out yet."

"Battery? What's that?" Gabrielle asked, munching her sandwich.

"It's not important right now, can we just please focus?" Ron was exasperated. Was he the only one who felt it was an urgent situation?

"Slow down, Ron, they don't understand what's going on," Harry tried to calm him. "Okay, I'm in the recording section now. I'm going to play each recording and tell me to stop when we get to the guy's voice, alright?"

As the recordings were being played, Ron and Neville shook their heads in unison. Harry pressed next until both Ron and Neville yelled "That's the man!"

Harry immediately increased the volume and hushed everyone.

"Lucas is from a long line of wizards familiar with this particular brand of magic, he will definitely deliver."

"Tell me, how many people have he killed by sending these…spirits?"

The whole room gasped, growled, and swore. They'd recognise that loathsome voice anywhere. Gabrielle shushed everyone.

"…Give him time. He will not disappoint. Granger's death is certain – we only need to wait."

"Bloody Umbridge, I will skewer her alive," growled Ginny hatefully.

The rest shushed the redhead.

"The foundation for the current Ministry is the despicable Golden Trio, and the key to that trio is that mudblood."

"Watch your mouth, you toad," Ron growled.

"For the love of Merlin, shut up!" Draco hissed at him.

"…Potter has powers in the Auror department. Without his mudblood, he is all brawns. It will be much easier for you to get close to him and start to whisper into his ears, and, without the mudblood to realise something's changing, our faction can forse Kingsley to resign and Potter will replace him. The Wizarding Saviour will be our Golden Boy, an obedient puppet without even noticing it."

"Bloody hell Harry, this is huge," Neville whispered loudly.

Everyone glared at him and he zipped his mouth.

The recording continued, "If, by some dumb luck, the mudblood figures out what ails her, it will still be too late. According to Lucas, the spirits will not stop until their target's blood dries up. Besides, there's no way she'll be able to track down Lucas. He assures me that the spirits' sender is not trackable. Therefore, you can relax. Well, I have to go and meet my wife before she starts suspecting I'm having affairs with you. No offense, Dolores, but I'd like to believe I can catch a more…desirable fish if I were to have affairs."

"This guy is no better than her either," Neville said in disgust.

Harry flipped the phone close, cutting off the man's recorded laughter. A usually calm and easy-going man, his eyes reflected a fiery anger that rivalled even his wife's.

"Guess what? By some dumb luck, that mudblood and her friends has figured out what ails her and we are figuring out who are involved," he told the phone in a harsh voice. He then looked at each of the person in the room. "I recognised that voice. I know who the guy is and I have an idea."

"Wow you've really grown, Potter," Malfoy drawled, "you don't need Granger to guide you anymore."

"Harry's not stupid," Ron said aggressively, fists curled, ready for a fight.

"Both of you, shut up or else I'll throw you out," threatened Ginny, to which both men wisely heeded.

"I can't believe that bastard is in cahoots with Umbridge," Harry muttered to himself.

"Sorry, can't hear that Harry, but maybe that's because there are some Blumbingers trying to burrow into my ears," Luna said.

"What's a – never mind I don't want to know," Pansy shook her head. Luna never changed. Nudging at Harry, Pansy asked, "What were you saying, Harry?"

"That bastard. I know who he is. I can't believe I've been in working in the same building with him, in the same floor even, and I never realised he's such a bloody evil git," Harry paced around the room, brows scrunched in concentration. "That's Marshall Wordsworth, Department Head of the Office of Magical Economic Cooperation. For the past few years he has been working with me, sort of, asking my help for security for business meetings between governments, that sort of thing. He claimed to be a fan of Hermione's and kept on saying he is a supporter of muggleborns, and that he wished Hermione would return to the public life as an icon for muggleborn rights. Merlin, I've been such a fool!"

He stopped and stared at Malfoy.

"Of course. You're the one!"

"Whoa, wait, I didn't do anything!" Malfoy raised his hands in defensive posture as Ginny whipped out her wands quick as lightning.

Gabrielle leveled hers at Ginny, daring the redhead to make the first move.

"What are you guys doing, lower your wands," Harry moved and stood in the middle of the sudden intense wand stand-off and made to grab at Malfoy's arm. "Malfoy, your expertise is required. Come on follow me."

"Harry, we have no idea what the hell is going on so can you please slow down and explain first before someone accidentally shoot a spell? And by someone I was referring to your wife," Pansy sighed.

Harry scratched his head. "Well, I was thinking that considering Malfoy here is an international businessman, we can use him as a pretext to go to Wordsworth's office and have a chat with him. While Malfoy distracts him, I'll snoop around and hopefully find something."

"I don't see why not," shrugged Malfoy, thinking fast. "The Ministry has been trying to be friendly with me, trying to use my business influence in Belarus to put spies inside and don't you dare to deny it, Potter. I may not be a Ministry employee but I do know how things work." Harry just blinked at that.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "Fine, continue your silence over it but I know what you guys are trying to do. I can use that crap to pretend to want something from the Ministry. Well, if Mr Wordsworth can offer something substantial, why not? I get to help you guys and expand my business. Let's go, Potter."

"Wait, what do we do here?" Ron asked, still trying to keep up with the development.

"Finish your breakfast and wait for us, don't go anywhere," Harry instructed as he closed the door and rushed after Malfoy.

* * *

"Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy, how can I be of service to you gentlemen?" Marshall Wordsworth gestured for the two men to take a seat in his spacious office. The sudden appearance of Harry and Malfoy did not seem to perturb him.

"My apologies for barging in unannounced, Mr Wordsworth, but Harry here has successfully convinced me to lend my aid to the Ministry regarding the Belarus situation," Malfoy drawled, leaning back into his seat. He frowned slightly, the lack of comfort provided by the chair bothered him.

Harry rolled his eyes at that. Trust Mr Spoiltbrat to demand luxury everywhere he went.

"I'm just doing my patriotic duty," Harry shrugged modestly. He decided to let Malfoy take centre stage and attention here while he snoop around as usual.

"I am not sure I follow about this Belarus situation," Wordsworth said carefully, eyeing Malfoy.

"Mr Wordsworth, I am not a fool," Malfoy rolled his eyes. "There's no need to be coy with me. I know you and the Auror department have been working together, trying to infiltrate that country by having your agents posing as my employees. I screen my prospective employees, Mr Wordsworth. I do background checks. Deep. Background. Checks. You guys are making it way too obvious. I mean, how many applicants wanting to work for Malfoy Industries specifically requested to be placed in Belarus? And these same exact applicants, all of them, somehow did internships and apprenticeships in the Ministry? What coincidence. What's up with Belarus anyway?"

"I have no control over any of that," muttered Harry. He repeatedly told his bosses that Malfoy was never a stupid person even though he was definitely a fool.

"Belarus is a delicate situation," Wordsworth finally said, hesitatingly. "I suppose I can tell you a little of it since you're interested in helping the Ministry."

Shaking his head, Malfoy said, "Not just a little, Mr Wordsworth, I want to know everything. Even the things you don't know yet."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Mr Malfoy. It's top secret."

"Then I'm afraid I've just wasted all my time and the doors to Belarus is forever closed to the Ministry. Make your decision right now, Mr Wordsworth. Don't prolong this game by trying to get permission from the upper heads and whatnots. If you get me on board, I'm sure they'll reward you and will close an eye on you not getting the Ministry's collective assent anyway."

Harry watched the longest staring contest he had in his life between Marshall Wordsworth and Draco Malfoy. It was boring and Harry was starting to feel fidgety. Even stakeouts were more thrilling.

"Just some of it," Wordsworth finally relented. "Most of the important things that directly affect you and your company, Mr Malfoy. And you'll be on board, yes?"

"No," chuckled Malfoy. There was a predatory glint in his eyes. "This is just your selling pitch to me. To get me on board, you have to convince me that our unholy partnership is extremely profitable for Malfoy Industries."

"What exactly are you after, Mr Malfoy?"

"It depends on what is in Belarus," replied the platinum-blond predator.

Wordsworth sighed. He rose to his feet and motioned for Malfoy to follow him. "Very well, please follow me. But I'm afraid you have to wait here, Mr Potter. While I know you're in the loop, some of the things I'll be showing Mr Malfoy are not part of what you're cleared for."

"I'll be quiet as a mouse," promised Harry.

Malfoy followed Wordsworth without so much as a glance to Harry. They disappeared behind a small door directly placed behind Wordsworth's chair.

As soon as the door closed, Harry jumped to his feet and started rummaging around the office. Searching carefully so as to not leave a trace that someone was looking for something, Harry scanned documents, books, parchments, and notes.

Fifteen minutes had gone by and Harry was starting to lose hope. What if the things they were seeking were kept behind the very door that both Wordsworth and Malfoy were at? The more Harry thought of it, the more he realised that there was no way Wordsworth would keep precious documents out in the open.

He heard footsteps nearing and he started panicking. He needed to tell Malfoy to waste more time somehow!

But just as the voices of Wordsworth and Malfoy were clear enough to be heard from where Harry was from, Harry's eyes fell on an inconspicuous, little black book hidden behind a baseball glove. Wordsworth was really committed into his cover of being a muggleborn supporter. Harry would not be surprised if the man actually understood how baseball worked.

Going on an instinct, Harry swiped the book, hid it in his robes, and jumped to his seat.

"…and I am looking forward to hear business proposals from the Ministry," Malfoy's smooth voice covered the sounds of Harry's rapidly beating heart.

"We would have them ready within the next few weeks," Wordsworth replied, smiling happily. "I should thank you, Mr Potter, for convincing Mr Malfoy here to do his civic duty."

"I just did what I have to," Harry waved away the praise. He rose to his feet, glancing at Malfoy. "I'm afraid I have to return to my job, gentlemen, but it's nice to know that Draco is finally on board."

"I won't say no to excellent profits, Harry," Malfoy commented. "I too, have to scram. I have several meetings I must not miss."

They could not run out quickly enough back to George's shop.

* * *

"This just won't budge!" Gabrielle swore in frustration.

For the past few hours, they had been trying to open the little black book that Harry swiped on impulse. He did not know what the book was for, and was not even sure whether there was any clue in the book or not. All he knew was he acted based on instincts, instincts well-honed from countless battles, fights, and tight situations which saved his hide crisis upon crisis.

"You know what, let's go and see him again, Potter," Malfoy said, looking exhausted. He tried all sorts of Dark spells to open even the most stubborn item, but the book would not budge. "But this time instead of snooping around to look for clues, I'll just enter his mind and try to find something. How good is your memory charm, Potter? That will be needed after I ransack his mind."

"Call me crazy but I like the git's plan," Ron muttered.

"While I'm against anything that involves breaking into another person's mind, I support Malfoy," Neville said quietly. "We're desperate for info here, Harry. And as we heard from the portable fellytone, that guy is definitely guilty and involved with Umbridge."

"It's a mobile phone," Harry corrected. "But yes, I can see your point. Very well then. Let's go, Malfoy."

* * *

Marshall Wordsworth was having an interesting day. First, Harry Potter, accompanied by none other than Draco Malfoy, paid him an unannounced visit. The sight was strange and if it were not for him witnessing it with his own two eyes, he would not believe that the two bitter rivals were on first-name terms with each other.

Initially, he was on guard and suspicious. There was nothing that indicated the two men would appear in his office. Coupled with the rumours and news of Hermione Granger making appearance in the Ministry to visit Harry Potter recently, Marshall Wordsworth was on edge. The plan had not been going well. Granger was still alive and showed no signs of getting worse. Umbridge was being a pain in the ass with her many fears and worries but unwilling to offer her blood to appease the spirits, making it harder for Lucas to control those evil damn things.

But today, when Malfoy showed an interest in the Belarus situation, Wordsworth was happy. The Ministry had been desperate to enter Belarus and for years Malfoy had been resisting the Ministry's courting. The Ministry, thinking that Malfoy's pockets were locked tight, tried to get Wordsworth to authorise his family fortune to set up business in Belarus. They had been pushing, coaxing and cajoling, but Wordsworth always managed to stay out of it. He really did not want to commit money into some dangerous ventures he barely had an interest of. For generations, his family made money from dealing with human trafficking and supplying dark wizards with human parts for their experiments. Not that the Ministry suspected it, of course.

Wordsworth breathed a sigh of relief, not having to do much with Belarus aside from just his capacity as the Department Head of Magical Economic Cooperation, liaising with his Belarus counterpart in establishing trade and all those crap.

Feeling it was a victory for him and thus required a mini celebration, he made his way to his cabinet housing all sorts of muggle things and grabbed a bottle of Firewhiskey.

His blood then froze.

His little diary was gone.

He felt his heart hammering against his chest, throat dry. That little black book was his diary, keeping a lot of secrets that would be damning against him and his little cause. While the diary had watertight protection, making it extremely difficult for anyone to read its contents, there was still a possibility someone managed to do it.

He quickly opened his door and asked his secretary as calmly as he could, "Lisa, had Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy gone?"

"They both took the lift sir," came the answer. "Would you like me to make you an appointment with them?"

"No, that won't be necessary, I was just wondering, that's all."

Why did Potter take the lift? His office was at the same floor with Wordsworth. This was all too strange.

Wordsworth did not want to waste time to figure out what was happening. There were so many possibilities in his mind and his paranoia resurfaced. They knew. They were onto him. This was bad.

He set down the bottle of Firewhiskey and grabbed his coat.

"Lisa, I just remembered I have an urgent family thing to go to. I won't be back for a few days, so please rearrange my schedule," he told his secretary.

Damn that Potter!

* * *

"I'm sorry, Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy, but Mr Wordsworth will be away for a few days," Lisa the secretary regretfully informed them the bad news.

Harry exchanged a glance with the platinum blond next to him.

"Just call me Draco, Lisa," Malfoy smiled charmingly. "Do you know where did he go? When is coming back?"

"He has some sort of family emergency, Draco," Lisa giggled, playing with her hair. "He didn't say when he'll be back but I can owl you when he does, if you like?"

Harry wanted to gag.

"That would be wonderful, Lisa, just owl me directly, I'll be waiting," winked Malfoy.

"You're disgusting," Harry told him as they exited the building.

"Said the married man who misses out a lot on life," replied Malfoy smugly. In a more serious tone, he added, "Seems like our rat is spooked."

"I have a bad feeling about this," muttered Harry. "I'm going to check on Hermione, you go to George's shop and inform the rest. Make plans as you see fit."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm now your errand boy," Malfoy rolled his eyes as Harry Disapparated with a loud 'crack'.

* * *

Hermione was loving the day out with Fleur. They were strolling in muggle London, with nobody turning even a glance at their linked hands. Anonymity was a wonderful thing. Here, nobody worshipped or hated Hermione Granger. Here, nobody had memorised some gossip columnist's _Twelve Things You Should Know About The Golden Girl_. It pissed Hermione to read that one of the twelve things mentioned was that Hermione was so possessive of Cormack McLaggen that the guy was still single years after he had graduated, scaring off other girls. Like, who would believe that aside from McLaggen himself? If she ever ran into him, she'd hex him into oblivion and beyond.

They were stopping at a bakery. The establishment seemed popular. The line was long, and everywhere was full. Fleur was sweet and offered to go inside to buy some pastries, insisting Hermione wait outside without being crammed by the crowd.

Hermione waited a few doors away (the waiting line was really long and people loitered outside of the bakery). She leaned back against the wall and watched life happening all around her. Muggle technology were developing so fast now, and Hermione had not been keeping up. Had she not gone to Hogwarts, would she be one of these people? Maybe a university student, doing her doctorate in something obscure and difficult that only she herself and her professors understood, walking around muggle London talking into the fascinating mobile phones, making a plan or two with some friends to watch the movies later in the day after class?

She shook her head and sighed. What was done was done. She was a witch. But that did not mean she should forget her roots. Maybe she should check out the latest gadgets and acquire some. Figuring them out would keep her occupied. Not to mention, it would be amusing to observe Fleur's wonderment.

Hermione was so deep into her thoughts that she did not realise a black-robed man standing next to her, too close for comfort.

The next thing she knew, all was dark.


	14. Race Against Time

_**When I first started writing this story, I thought I could update once a week, at the very least. Unfortunately, life disagreed with me.**_

 _ **But here's another chapter, and my deepest apologies for keeping you waiting.**_

 _ **Thanks for sticking to this story :)**_

 _ **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**_

* * *

There was a steady throbbing in her head. Not painful enough to warrant an outburst of swearing but annoying enough to wake her up from her slumber to get some pain relief potion from her bedside table in order for her to return pain-free to her said slumber.

She groaned and, still with eyes closed, reached out to her bedside table carefully so as to not awaken her sleeping lover.

Except that she found herself unable to do so.

Hermione shot open her eyes and tried to sit upright but was glued to the cold, stone floor. Her wrists were tied tightly behind her at an awkward angle and her ankles chained. Judging from her numbed fingers, she had been there for at least several hours. She struggled and wiggled her upper torso (the chains on her ankles were too heavy – she could barely move her feet) in an effort to somehow free herself from her binds.

She let out a frustrated growl and realised her mouth was gagged. Not only that, she could see nothing aside from darkness because her eyes were covered as well. Whoever did this wanted to make sure she would not be able to run away. Why did she not push herself to learn wandless magic? It would come handy for the present situation. She kicked herself mentally.

Hermione's brains racked itself assessing the situation, coming to the conclusion that she was kidnapped. She could feel anxiety and panic starting to build in addition to the 'voices' giggling in her head and struggled to keep them at bay, knowing she must be of clear and sound mind if she was ever to get out of this unscathed.

The brunette tried to estimate the duration she was unconscious. Unfortunately, as she was blindfolded, she could not see anything that might be of any indication that resembled time. If she had disappeared long enough, Fleur would surely notice it, unless the cashier line at the bakery was extremely long. But then, how long would it take anyway? If it were up to her, there were so many things she would change in the bakery.

Before Hermione could drift away in fantasising to revamp and make plans for the bakery she would most likely never to visit again, her thoughts were interrupted by a polite cough not far to her west. She tensed and focused her ears, wondering whether it was friend or foe.

"My apologies for interrupting your pleasant day out with your lovely lady but unfortunately there's a certain urgent business which I can possibly not delay any longer."

With a sinking feeling, Hermione thought to herself 'a foe'. She also did not recognise the man's voice, which added fuel to her increasing anxiety.

"While I am usually a proud host and love to offer maximum comfort to my guests, due to the nature of our…business, I have to apologise again for being an inconsiderate host," the man continued his rambling in a pleasant voice that started to irritate Hermione. Why did every villain she encountered loved to ramble on and on instead of going straight to the point? Did they never learn that such foolish habit was the number one cause of their downfall?

Hermione heard him approaching her in soft, measured steps. She assumed he either knelt or squatted beside her, because she could hear him whisper, "Thank you for your services in defeating the Dark Lord but you've outlived your usefulness. Now be a good muggleborn and let us proper wizards rebuild this world."

Hermione groaned. Another pureblood elitist. If she just nodded and pretended to be in agreement, she would definitely be home by dinner and the worst thing Fleur would do was to lecture her on being more alert the next time.

"You know," the man said in a conversational tone, "I've always believed that a person's greatest strength is also their greatest weakness. Take away your sanity and what do we get? A pretty hopeless muggleborn who just would not understand that her time on this beautiful earth is up."

Hermione's blood froze. Who was this man? How did he know about her insanity? Was he Umbridge's lackey?

"Your tenacity is the cause for Dolores' worries – you do remember Dolores Umbridge, yes?" Without waiting for a confirmation, the man continued, "But now my good friend Dolores can sleep in peace without worrying herself sick that our grandiose cause will be in flame. Ah, I hear her footsteps now."

Hermione knew the sounds of those footsteps – they were irritatingly familiar and evoked feelings of disgust and anger from within. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, somebody snickered. She ignored it and reminded herself to be strong.

"Well, well, who do we have here?" Hermione loathed that high-pitched, sing-song voice. "Miss Granger, you've been a very naughty child and what do we do to naughty children?"

Hermione had never wanted to swear so much in her life. Had her mouth not covered, she would let out a plethora of names and 'toad' would be the kindest of them all.

"Oops, I forgot that you can't speak," giggled Umbridge. "I have to thank you, Marshall, for keeping true to your words. Let's just get this over with so that I can focus on saving our beloved wizarding world. I'll be in my office if you need anything."

Panic built in Hermione and she took several deep breaths, trying to steady herself. She had a horrible suspicion on what was about to transpire. She cursed herself internally, wishing she'd listen to that blasted Mildred sooner. But what was done was done. She had to find a way to get away from all these, to return to Fleur's embrace.

The brunette heard the man called Marshall rose and walked away slowly and said in an amused tone, "My deepest apologies for what's in store for you, but you could've avoided all these had you just kill yourself like you were supposed to. Oh well, at least those creatures will be happy to finally able to devour you. I promise it won't take that long – as long as you don't fight it. Don't worry, trying to delay the inevitable will still get you killed. The esteemed Potter and troop will never be able to guess what's actually happening. Sweet dreams, Miss Granger."

There was another man's voice, starting to chant in a deep, slow tone. The brunette was startled, not sensing his presence. Who was that? Had he been there since the beginning? Or did he come with Umbridge?

Hermione suddenly let out a howl, her head was shattering into a million pieces. Cold wind enveloped her, making her shiver. But inside of her, it was boiling hot. What sounded like laughter of a choir of a thousand people rang in her ears and they started singing _'…it must have been love, but it's over now. It must have been good, but I lost it somehow…'_

 _No,_ Hermione wanted to scream and drown out the voices, _it's not over yet. I haven't lost yet!_

Bellatrix was giggling in her left ear. "Little Muddykins is here wanting to play. Awww, I am touched."

 _I don't want to play with you_ , Hermione shouted internally, _fuck off!_

But since when had Bellatrix listened to anyone? "How does it feel, knowing nobody is able to save you?"

There was a searing, hot white pain that blinded Hermione. She struggled to stay conscious, to anchor herself on the land of the living.

 _Think of Fleur_ , the brunette told herself. _Think of her smiles, her laughter, her delicious cooking_ …

"Little Muddykins is dying," Bellatrix sang cheerfully. The choir resumed its laughter. "Her halfbreed lover knows nothing."

Something clicked in Hermione's mind. Umbridge and that Marshall guy did not seem to realise Mildred managed to track down the soul killers' sender. Hermione frowned. But if they did not realise it, then why did they kidnap her to expedite the process?

Hermione tried to stay positive, clinging to a sliver of hope. If nobody realised that Fleur and the rest of Hermione's friends knew what was going on, then the cavalry would soon barge in. That had always been in the case.

 _Except in the past, Dumbledore had a hand in them,_ a pessimistic voice told Hermione. She tried to ignore it, not wanting to fall deeper into the sinking miserable, helpless feeling she was falling into.

"Muddykins, your life force shall be our feast tonight," Bellatrix giggled.

Then all was dark.

* * *

Harry grunted as he was roughly pushed against the walls.

"What the fuck did you do?" snarled Fleur.

"Look Fleur, we only tried to follow a new lead we found and the next thing we knew 'Mione's disappeared," Harry tried to explain as calmly as he could. Fleur's pupils dilated, colours alternating between her usual electric blue and golden. He found it highly unnerving.

"So she disappeared because of something _you_ did," Fleur was enraged. "You blood – "

There was a loud bang and Harry heard the distinct 'thud' of Fleur being flung across the room. A moment later, everybody looked at Luna's innocent face.

"So that's what that spell was for," Luna said in a surprised tone.

"What the hell do you – "

"Fleur, stop with this madness," Gabrielle restrained her raging sister. "There's no point in pointing fingers. Right now we must stay calm and locate Hermione. Her life is in danger."

"We're all here for Mione, Fleur," Ginny said softly. "None of us would do anything that would bring her to danger. But unfortunately, something has happened and we don't know what exactly. Can you unleash that rage to the toad and her tadpoles instead?"

Fleur let out a short scream and took a deep breath, her hand combing through her silky hair. She gritted her teeth and nodded curtly.

"Thanks, sis," Gabrielle gave Fleur a quick hug. "We'll get her back soon, I promise."

"Alright, so let's quickly recap to make sure we're all on the same page and then let's start throwing useful ideas," Malfoy said in a business tone. "Lavender, take down notes."

"I'm not your secretary, Malfoy," she grumbled but dutifully readied a parchment.

"We found a lead, a muggle recording, which led Harry and Malfoy to some ministry worker's office, and they found a suspicious diary which still can't be opened, and they returned to said ministry worker's office to find more clues but that worker had disappeared, and at the same time you and Hermione went out for a stroll and while you were in the bakery Hermione got kidnapped and now we're here at The Lake trying to figure out this problem without turning it into a full-scale international manhunt," Neville said rapidly in one breath. "Did I get it right?"

"Why are we taking minutes of this?" nobody paid attention to Lavender's grumbling.

"So, thoughts?" Malfoy asked the room.

"Run down the list of Umbridge's known and suspected properties," Pansy suggested. "Harry can use his Auror's authority to break into each of them."

"I wish they're that stupid and incompetent," Fleur snorted.

"At least I'm trying to think of something, miss dragon," Pansy shot back.

"Ladies," warned Gabrielle.

"Magical trace around that bakery?" Ginny asked.

Harry shook his head, "That was the first thing I did and the web is too complicated. They're good, they know their stuff. If we try to trace that it will take weeks – too many destinations they went through to cover their tracks."

Fleur growled.

"Hey Fleur, if I remember correctly, didn't that friend of yours tracked down those evil spirits' killers and that's how we know Umbridge is the culprit? Can she do the same but track down those spirits' current location instead?" Ron asked.

Fleur looked at him like he had grown horns on his head. Ron shuffled awkwardly under that intense glare.

"Just a thought," he muttered.

"That was actually genius, why didn't I think of that before?" Fleur shot to her feet, gave Ron a quick peck on his cheek and ran toward the door. "What are you guys doing? Come on. Only Hermione can bring people here, remember?"

As one, all of them raced to the door.

* * *

The grotesque shape barely passing for a man covered in sticky, gooey purple pus gave out a low groan ten metres away to Hermione's left. It was propped against a boulder, unable to move. Its groans were pitiful, drawing sympathy from the brunette.

Hermione, ever the curious, wanted to take a step closer to figure out what the being was, but she was apprehensive. What if it was a dangerous creature? What if its plans were to lower Hermione's guard and kill her in one fatal strike?

"Can't stop being nosy, can you, mudblood?" Bellatrix sauntered up to her out of nowhere, crunching an apple slowly.

Startled, Hermione spun and faced the deranged lunatic. The brunette stared at the fruit in Bellatrix's hand, her mouth watering. How long had it been since her last meal?

"Don't lay your filthy eyes on me," shrieked Bellatrix, throwing the apple viciously to Hermione and struck the brunette square on the forehead.

The force of the throw caused Hermione to stagger backward and she felt a lump started to form on where the apple landed.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" as soon as those words left her mouth, Hermione regretted it. Facing Bellatrix unarmed and with nothing to cover her, Hermione was in serious danger. She immediately took several more steps backward, putting as much distance between her and the slowly approaching Death Eater. Unfortunately, that meant closing her distance to the grotesque figure which might or might not be dangerous. Hermione realised this fact only when her feet bumped against something hard, warm, and gooey.

The brunette let out a gasp and jumped away. Was the purple pus some sort of fatal disease? While she did a short stint as a cat in her second year in Hogwarts, she did not want to turn into a purple humanoid…thing.

"How are you still alive?" Hermione could kick herself for not realising this sooner. She was obviously either hallucinating or having a nightmare. "More importantly, why are you in my dreams? Get out. I am so over you and your insanity."

"Miss Bossy Mudblood thinks she can order me around now, doesn't she?" cackled Bellatrix. "What makes you think you are in _your_ dreams, hmm?"

Hermione furrowed her brow. "What are you talking about? This is a dream. I was kidnapped and fell unconscious."

Bellatrix grinned and it was not a pretty sight. "Somebody seems to forget why she is here."

The Death Eater's grinning face morphed into a black, faceless shadow with only a set of brilliant yellow sharp teeth plastered on it. Her body followed suit, transforming into an elongated dark shadow.

"Tick tock," the disembodied voice of Bellatrix emitted from the transformed body of the Death Eater. Two silver jets of light shot out from her hands aiming at Hermione.

Before the brunette could react, the purple grotesque humanoid that had been groaning in pain got to its feet quick as lightning and brought down the brunette, smothering her with its sticky pus.

 _Oh god, mum's going to kill me, this is so unhygienic,_ was Hermione's first frantic thought. The next moment, she realised that her parents still had no idea of her existence. That sobered her up to the situation at hand.

"You're just delaying the inevitable," Bellatrix's disembodied voice cried in anger. "Nothing will stop us."

When the grotesque purple humanoid bellowed its defiance, Hermione realised that the gooey creature was trying to protect her. She had no idea what that was or why it did that but having a friend in this nightmare was a bonus. Even if that friend happened to be gross.

* * *

Fleur tapped her foot impatiently. Nearly two hours had passed but all Mildred did was sitting on the carpeted floor, head clutched between her hands, eyes shut tightly, and muttering softly in a language Fleur did not recognise. The blonde wanted to scream at Mildred for wasting valuable seconds but Fleur needed her to figure out where Hermione was held.

The wait was torturous.

"Time is of the essence. We need to leave now, people," Mildred said urgently.

Fleur did not even try to hold herself from rolling her eyes. Every time she tried to hurry Mildred, that blasted woman would hiss back at her. But now Mildred was the one acting as if everybody else was wasting time. Unbelievable.

"We don't even know where we're supposed to go," Ginny said, irritated, giving Mildred a dirty look.

Since the moment they stepped into Mildred's latest rented room, she had not made a great impression. Between her comments of managing to lose Hermione from their grasp, blaming Harry and Malfoy for not planning things carefully, and muttering audibly about the lack of useful knowledge Hogwarts taught to its students, it took Ginny a great deal of self-discipline to not hex the annoying woman to next week. How was Fleur friends with Mildred was a mystery to Ginny.

"Can anyone here read minds?" Mildred ignored Ginny's comment.

"I'm a much better Occlumens but I can do a little Legilimency." Malfoy checked his perfectly manicured fingers, being his haughty self. Being a Hogwarts graduate and the ever-proud Malfoy, he felt insulted with the insinuation that the Malfoys sent their heir to a sub-par school. Ginny just wanted to sock both Mildred and Malfoy. Why did irritating people had to be gathered together during crucial moments?

"Good. Hold my arm," Mildred ordered, still closing her eyes. "Everybody else, hold his hands or something. I'm going to focus on a place nearby to where Hermione is kept, and you're going to read my mind and Apparate all of us there."

"You're insane," Neville told Mildred. "That's dangerous, we could get ourselves killed."

"At least it's not as painful as getting splinched," Ron added helpfully.

"You can't just Apparate to a place you've never been before," Malfoy shook his head. "You don't even know the name of the location."

"But I know where she is," Mildred gritted her teeth. "What is the point of learning something if you can't tweak it to suit your needs? Merlin, Hogwarts' education is so bad. Why Voldemort bothered to try to conquer that place beats me."

"I will hex somebody soon if we don't start to move," threatened Fleur hysterically. She was visibly tensed, with sparks shooting out of her wand frequently. Everybody gave her a wide berth.

"Fine. I'm not going to lecture any of you why it is very possible to Apparate to a place you don't know because Hermione is dying at this moment and it is so bloody difficult to try to stall her attackers so can somebody just follow my orders before Fleur kill us all?"

Perhaps it was Mildred's desperate tone; perhaps it was Fleur's dangerous aura; or perhaps it was the adrenaline coursing through everybody's veins. But Malfoy did as was told, and the rest of the group held on to him as he Apparated all of them to the location Mildred showed him in her mind.

They landed softly on the ground, and Ginny gasped for air, having squished uncomfortably.

"Oh crap, there's blood from his nose," Ron exclaimed, shaking Malfoy's body rather roughly, trying to wake the unconscious figure.

"Leave him be," Mildred instructed. "He's just exhausted."

"Just exhausted? Really, just exhausted?"

Pansy and Lavender had to physically carry Gabrielle away from mauling Mildred.

"He is fine, trust me," Mildred rolled her eyes. "Alright, that innocent-looking cottage in the distance? Yes, that's where Hermione is being kept. I need two persons to be here to help and protect me. Everybody else can go ahead."

"Help you with what?" asked Harry.

"The soul killers are already starting to eat Hermione's life force," she explained. "I'm doing my best to stall them and it's exhausting. I need one person to look after the unconscious boy and another to share some magical energy with me to make sure Hermione will still be alive when you lot rescue her."

"I'm staying, I don't trust you with Draco," Gabrielle snarled.

Fleur's relieved sigh told Ginny that the blonde was happy her sister was not jumping into the front line.

"Would some knowledge or experience dabbling in dark magic help?" asked Pansy.

Mildred nodded.

"I'm more useful to you than the rest here – minus the unconscious boy," Pansy decided.

"I'm going to scout for a bit. Everyone wait here," Harry switched into his Auror mode. "And I really mean _wait here_. I'll be back and we'll make a plan."

"We're just wasting time," Fleur protested, trying to free herself from Ginny's and Luna's firm hold.

"We'll waste more time if we don't make a proper plan," Harry insisted. "Just give me a few minutes."

Fleur swore under her breath. "This was why it took Britain so long to get rid of Voldemort," she muttered.

"Fleur, I understand you're very upset about the situation but we all are worried as well," Ginny tried to speak as calmly as she could. "All of us need to keep a level head, alright? If we barge in without a plan they might slip away with Mione and I don't want that."

"Not to mention there are too many Blumbidingers around here," Luna grumbled.

"I want to smash something too but now is not the time," Ginny decided to not ask Luna to explain herself.

Fleur grunted her assent. Ginny had a good point. Losing Hermione for the second time might spell fatality for the brunette and Fleur could not let it happen. She was already blaming herself for letting Hermione out of sight for a moment, and she would never repeat that mistake again.

As Fleur had no idea where Harry was exactly, she just stared at the little unassuming cottage at the distance, with smokes coming out of its chimney. It looked like a typical cottage at the peaceful, laid-back countryside, promising a life of quiet and rest.

"Mildred, are you sure this is it?" Fleur was doubtful. "Wouldn't they be hiding in an unplottable house or some menacing fortress?"

"Yes this is definitely the place," Mildred sighed, massaging her temples, eyes shut tightly. "Why would you doubt me? Have I ever led you to the wrong location?"

"Well it just doesn't make sense because – "

"Shut up," Mildred shushed the blonde who immediately snarled, "I keep on telling you Hermione is dying and I can't concentrate on preventing her imminent death if you keep on bothering me with stupid questions."

In retaliation, Fleur just hissed back. When all of this was over, she swore she would kick Mildred in the ass for that.

"Harry's back," Ginny tugged at Fleur's sleeve to distract her attention away from plotting revenge on Mildred.

"Right, it looks simple but it's complicated," Harry told the gathering friends. He looked tensed, which Fleur interpreted as bad news. She did not like it. "Two entrances: one front door and one back door. No guards, which means the place is heavily warded. No visible movements inside, and I'll bet my Firebolt 3 that they have a secret basement which is where Hermione is kept. Fleur and Ginny – you guys take the back door. I have a hunch that it will lead you straight to the basement. Luna and I will take the front door. Neville, you guard the back door and Lavender, you guard the front door."

"Harry, you're nuts, mate," Ron looked confused with the division.

"Fleur was a curse-breaker, she'll know how to work around the wards," Harry explained in a hurry. "Luna can see er… different things so she'll be great to help me. Besides, do you want to be with two extremely pissed women?"

"You have a good point," Ron readily agreed.

"Hey Gabrielle, when Malfoy wakes up, I need the both of you to go to the cottage as well. Decide among yourselves whether to storm inside or swap guard duty. Right guys, let's go!"

"This doesn't sound like a sophisticated plan of an Auror but whatever, let's go," Fleur grumbled, finally able to unleash her pent-up anger and anxiety.

The blonde Apparated quietly to the back area and a moment later she heard Ginny and Neville Apparating next to her. Ignoring the other two, Fleur paid undivided attention to the wards that were keeping her away from her sweet Hermione. Exhaling, she closed her eyes and tried to find the rhythm of the wards, the buzz that brought them to life.

The currents flowing from the wards felt extremely familiar and Fleur was brought back to the time she was trying to break into a forgotten, ancient vault in the heart of Gobi Desert. It took her three months then to unlock the first layer of the intricate puzzle protecting what turned out to be an empty vault with a short parchment containing the words 'did you have fun?' Fleur was so mad at the ancient prank she refused to accept tasks from anywhere in the region for the next couple of years.

Fleur shook her head. It was not the time to reminisce about ancient pranks.

The blonde found the 'lock' of the rhythm and channelled her magic to unlock it. Much like physical lock picking, it required delicate 'fingers' and extreme patience. While patience was the one thing Fleur excelled at, she could not be patient when it came to Hermione's safety. The longer she spent time on these wards, the less time Hermione had on earth.

As with her other curse-breaking session, Fleur consulted with her inner Veela, her ancient legacy. It connected well with nature and the natural magick, which modern wizards had forgotten. While most of her peers depended solely on experience and memorizing runes as well as enchantments to break wards, Fleur depended on her Veela to guide her instincts. That was the only thing the blonde felt her Veela was useful for. Fleur did not like the Veela, for It was primal and demanding. Oh, the countless times her family berated her for not acquainting with her Veela! But Fleur refused, frightened by Its force. Fortunately, the Veela never forced Itself to come out, happy to be lying dormant. And Fleur hoped it would stay that way forever.

Fleur shook her head again. She needed to focus fully, not let her mind wander.

With a satisfying 'click' that only she could hear, Fleur grinned triumphantly and pushed the invisible wards away.

"Shall we?" Fleur invited Ginny.

Ginny responded with an evil grin and together the both of them blasted the back door and charged inside, yelling their war cries.

Heavens helped those who stood in their path.


	15. Salvation

Hermione was suffocating. While the purple gooey humanoid had been shielding her from Bellatrix's madness and keeping her safe, the brunette would be very grateful for a chance of fresh air. For the past hour or two (or more, she did not know) the soul killers masquerading as a very creepy Bellatrix Lestrange had been trying to get the purple humanoid off of Hermione but the gooey creature steadfastly held on to the brunette. It was far stronger than Hermione's initial thoughts.

But that meant Hermione had been trapped on the ground with barely any oxygen left, which strained her lungs. She kept on reminding herself to stay calm in order to minimise oxygen usage, but with the adrenaline rush and fear, she might as well asked Ron to go on a diet. Hermione tried to extricate herself from the purple humanoid's firm grip but she was ensconced so well there was no crack for her to slip through. Had there been one, Bellatrix most probably would have found it sooner and Hermione would be dead.

 _Okay, this is just a bad dream_ , she told herself. _I should just tell myself to wake up and I'll be back with Umbridge_.

But try as she might, she could not do it. It was not the first time her dream self was aware of her being in a dream (or nightmare) and that awareness helped her to wake up to reality. This time however, she was still stuck in her nightmare, and she could not feel her conscious self stir even slightly.

"What did you do, Bellatrix?" Hermione tried to not retch from the stale air. "Where am I? What's going on?"

The Death Eater gave a maniacal laughter, painfully similar to the one Hermione remembered in Malfoy Manor right after the word 'Mudblood' was permanently etched to her wrist. The brunette gritted her teeth. It was not the time for past traumas to bubble to the surface.

"Why, Little Muddykins? Are you starting to like this place?"

Hermione growled but that was too soft for Bellatrix to hear. Not that it mattered, for the Death Eater continued.

"We've told you many times that your time is up," sang Bellatrix. She sounded suspiciously close, too close for Hermione's liking. Was the purple humanoid losing? The brunette hoped fervently that it was not the case. "You can't run away from us, Muddykins. Your little friend here is just delaying the inevitable. Why don't you just come out of your hidey-hole and end this now? Or do you prefer to see your useless friend die for you? Hmmm, is that it?"

"You're just trying to frighten me, Lestrange," Hermione yelled out, mustering bravado. In truth, her fears increased by the second. She could feel the purple humanoid, while still protecting her, was slowly losing its strength. "I'm going to wake up anytime now, so why don't you just go away and hide in the shadows?"

"Wake up?" the Death Eater cackled. "How can you wake up if you're not asleep?"

Cold fear flooded through Hermione's veins. Just as what she feared.

 _Think Granger, think,_ she urged herself. _Use that big head of yours to escape._

But no matter how hard she tried, there was no plan coming to her mind. Hermione was not prepared for such situation. If she was not in a dream, then where was she?

"Hermione, when I release you, run and don't ever look back," the purple humanoid said in a low voice near the brunette's ears and it sounded suspiciously like Mildred groaning in pain. That shook Hermione from her panicking thoughts. "Don't every look back no matter what and if you happen to see the soul killers, avert your eyes and keep on running. If you fall, you'll die. Now GO!"

Hermione had so many questions and her head was so confused but before she could wrap her head around the strange turn of events, the purple humanoid released its grip on Hermione and launched itself at Bellatrix.

"RUN, IDIOT!"

Okay, that was _definitely_ Mildred's voice. Hermione jumped to her feet and started running away, thankful for the gulp of fresh air.

But where should she run to? As far as her eyes could see, everything was pitch black and there were no buildings or trees or even pebbles. It felt like some kind of void. Remembering that the soul killers were spirits of human beings, Hermione considered the possibility of the place being some sort of hell. However, there were no fires and brimstones. The place was not hell, she decided. But close enough.

Mildred's frustrated scream caused Hermione to throw a peek behind her and she immediately regretted it. The long, gigantic black shadow-mass thing that was Bellatrix Lestrange ( _soul killers_ , Hermione corrected herself) somehow managed to get past through the purple humanoid and was coming at the brunette with its long strides.

That was a mistake. Hermione's heart sank and she was rooted to the spot. Frozen, Hermione watched as Bellatrix seemed to grow larger and taller. The brunette's eyes were transfixed and as the creature grew taller, Hermione's head was tilted further to the back until she fell backwards.

"I like to play with my meals before I devour them," sang the Death Eater. Hermione shuddered at the disembodied voices.

The brunette stared helplessly as Bellatrix bent down slowly, its black hand reaching out to pick Hermione from the ground. But just as the hand was inches away from touching the brunette, Mildred shouted a battle cry and with a loud 'thump', the gigantic Death Eater tumbled to the ground.

"What did I tell you? Don't look at it, fool," Mildred yelled at Hermione, sounding pissed.

Before Hermione's eyes, Bellatrix shrunk to a size similar to the purple humanoid and both creatures wrestled on the ground.

"Pick your ass off and run, Hermione! Don't look back and for the love of all that is good and holy, think of your reason to live and focus on it," urged Mildred.

Without needing to be told twice, Hermione got to her feet and ran, heart thumping wildly. How did Bellatrix suddenly just grew bigger? And why did it shrink back?

Huffing and puffing, the brunette pondered on her reason to live. Did she have a good reason to live aside from not giving up? And why was she not giving up? Why was she still fighting on, despite the insurmountable odds against her? That was actually a damn good question. But she had a damn good answer in response to that.

Fleur.

Fleur Delacour.

The sun that shone brightly in Hermione's gloomy life, that brought fresh wind and change to her putrid environment. The one who made her smile every single day, whose beauty never failed to stun her. The one whose laughter and soothing voice she longed to hear again, whose arms were her safe refuge. The one she wanted to wake up next to every day, whose dancing eyes intoxicated her every fibre.

Fleur Delacour helped to anchor her, and there was no way in hell Hermione would let that slip away.

Feeling a renewed determination and a sudden burst of hope, Hermione filled her mind with Fleur and quickened her pace.

Hermione had to halt her steps, however, for there was a burst of light in front of her. Shielding her eyes, the brunette took a careful peek and saw a silver door materialising three steps away. Without thinking much about it, with only the thoughts of Fleur in her mind, Hermione confidently approached the door, opened it and stepped into the mystery.

There was only one thought: she was coming home to Fleur.

* * *

With a start, Hermione jerked back to the consciousness, only to immediately fall back to the ground due to the immense pain all over her body. She coughed uncontrollably and tried to clean the mucus away from her mouth but to her horror, the liquid she felt sputtering out was blood, not mucus.

 _I need water,_ she told herself, _clean this with water._

As she looked around her surroundings trying to locate water, her brains then registered the battle that was occurring.

A balding, middle-aged man, someone whom Hermione did not recognise, was throwing spells across the room. As the man's back was obstructing Hermione's view, she lifted her head to see who was his enemy. The brunette squinted her eyes and her blood froze to see Fleur and Ginny dodging the man's green jet spells.

She needed to do something. Fast.

She looked around, desperate to find a stray wand but as luck would have it, there was none. She needed Plan B.

Stifling a painful cry, Hermione pulled off her left shoe and, gritting her teeth, she threw it to the back of the man's head with all her might. The sharp pain in her ribs indicated several broken ones. No wonder breathing was such a torture.

That did get the attention of the man, though. Startled, he whipped his head and that fraction of a second cost him the battle. The next second, two jets of yellow spells shot him squarely at the chest and he was flung to the walls. Hermione watched with grim satisfaction at his unmoving body.

When Fleur's tensed, anxious face came within view, Hermione gave her a wry grin.

"Fleur, I've missed you," croaked the brunette and then she coughed, sputtering more blood.

"Merde! Oh my gods, you must be bleeding internally!" Fleur looked torn between wanting to destroy the place, scream, and envelope Hermione in her arms. Instead, the blonde knelt beside the brunette and, while holding the latter's hand, glanced at Ginny who was kneeling at the other side of Hermione and muttering a spell.

"Nope, don't move her anywhere," the redhead frowned. "Broken ribs and stuff. I never got around to understand this diagnostics thing. All I know is that it's better for us to wait for Healers."

Hermione stifled a laughter. Typical of Ginny to only be good at what she was interested in. The redhead seemed to know what Hermione was thinking, for she admitted, "This spell is useful to know whether I can continue my trainings or wait for the club's mediwitch. See these red dots? They're bad injuries. You shouldn't move at all."

"It's good to see you again, Gin," chuckled Hermione.

Fleur gently cradled Hermione's head in the blonde's lap and kissed the top of the brunette's head.

"I'm sorry I was so careless and got you into this situation, Hermione," Fleur sounded very guilty about it. "It was foolish of me to let you out of my sight. My job was to watch over you and I failed."

"Don't apologise, Fleur," Hermione smiled at the blonde, showing that she was not angry at all. "It's not your fault. I'm just so happy to see you again."

"Hey guys, sorry to interrupt this moment but I'm hearing footsteps," Ginny warned. She pulled a toppled table and positioned it so to cover Hermione from the door's view. "There might be more of those morons."

Fleur gently disentangled herself from Hermione and gave the brunette a quick kiss.

"I'll protect you," she murmured.

Fleur crouched beside Ginny behind the table, wand at the ready. Hermione exhaled slowly and closed her eyes, wishing she would be of more help. She did not know what happened but the injuries must've been sustained when she blanked out and was stuck with Bellatrix.

Talking about the deranged lunatic… Hermione just realised she felt cheerful. Frighteningly cheerful. In fact, she wanted to just laugh and yell in joy for no reason. And where were those blasted voices? Her mind was quiet. Empty. Well, not _that_ empty considering the million things going through her mind. But that felt…fresh. She liked it. Was the nightmare finally over? Or was this the calm before the storm?

The door was knocked open roughly, and Hermione said a quick prayer to protect both Fleur and Ginny. But seeing the tension dissipated from the two witches in question caused the brunette to raise an eye.

"Harry! Ron! Are you both alright?" Ginny jumped quickly to her feet. To hug her husband, Hermione supposed.

"Merlin, 'Mione you look horrible," Ron's worried face came to view.

"Thanks Ron, you always know how to make a girl feel pretty," Hermione deadpanned.

"I knocked out the toad on my way here," Harry said with a grim satisfaction. "She was surprised to see me but that's to be expected."

"You only knocked her out?" Ginny narrowed her eyes, reproachful. "Where is that git? She needs some lessons."

"Is Hermione alright? Where is she?" a huffing Mildred stumbled in, half-supported by Pansy.

"She's just injured, we're going to get some Healers to bring her to St. Mungo's safely," Fleur explained.

"No time for that! We have to get her out of here. Now."

Hermione did not like the wild panic in Mildred's eyes.

"What do you – " Ron's question was cut off by a loud, terrible roar coming from above them.

"Shit. Everybody, circle around Hermione and have your wands at the ready!"

Without needing to be told, the group already did so. The tense atmosphere was back in the room. Hermione's brief cheerfulness faded away, and an unexplainable chill started to envelope her. Fleur, noticing her shivering, murmured a warming charm but that was of no help.

"Mildred, what's going on?" Fleur asked worriedly.

"Don't have time to explain now but soul killers are loose," Mildred murmured. She inhaled slowly, and then released her breath.

"What? How? It's a good thing right? They're not in Hermione's mind anymore?"

"It's bad because they'll eat whoever's in their path, Fleur."

"I saw a couple of Umbridge's henchmen sucked dry," Pansy muttered. "It's disgusting, and I've witnessed many of my families' rituals."

Hermione just remembered something. "Don't look at it," she warned them. "And if you happen to look at it, don't ever fall down."

The group, minus Mildred and Pansy, frowned.

"Why? Is it so ugly?" Ron asked.

Before he received an answer, the ceiling broke above them. Fortunately, due to Harry's and Fleur's lightning reflexes, the group was shielded from falling woods and debris.

"Sweet Merlin's bearded pants."

Hermione agreed with Ron's sentiment.

Similar to Hermione's nightmare, a large, tall, black creature stood in front of them. But where the creature in Hermione's nightmare only had a mouth, this one had yellow eyes. The aura it emitted was repressive, and Hermione fought to not stare at it. She was already lying on the ground, which was fatal. Not seeing it might help, though the brunette doubted it at this point.

"I'm going to try to contain the creature before it starts eating all of us up," Mildred gritted her teeth, closing her eyes. "Does anybody know the wizard who's been controlling the soul killers?"

"I think I do, we broke his neck when we stormed in," Ginny answered.

"No wonder the soul killers are raging mad," Mildred muttered under her breath. "Oh well, one less thing to worry. Alright, I need someone to bring Umbridge here. The rest of you, lend me your strength."

"I got it," Ron volunteered and carefully bolted out of the room.

A shimmering pale blue light surrounded the creature, inching its way to envelope the soul killers. As the light grew brighter, the soul killers roared its terrible, disembodied voices of a thousand people sound. Hermione closed her eyes, struggling with the pain forming in her head. Horrible memories flooded her and without realising it, tears flowed from her eyes.

"Hermione," the brunette barely heard Fleur's voice calling to her, "Hermione, stay with me. I'm here with you, Hermione. I'm here with you."

Disregarding the pain even the slightest movements caused, Hermione curled up and hugged herself. She had never felt so lonely, so exhausted, so despaired, and so miserable. Why did she open that silver door? What was the point? She could not remember why was trying to run away from the soul killers. She never deserved life. Living was for good people.

"Hermione, I'm here," Fleur's voice was coming nearer. The brunette barely registered Fleur hugging her, cradling her head in the blonde's arms.

"I love you, Hermione, I love you," whispered Fleur repeatedly, rocking her body back and forth.

Then, as sudden as her spirit was crushed, it was lifted back again. Hermione wiped her tears and looked into Fleur's eyes, confused.

"Why was I crying?"

In response, the blonde kissed Hermione's forehead and hugged her tightly.

"It's over, Hermione, it's over," Fleur let out a cry of relief. "It's finally over."

"What?" Hermione blinked in confusion.

"Umbridge's dead, Hermione," Mildred answered, sounding exhausted.

Hermione turned her head and saw the witch she disliked from the start who had been giving the world nothing but pain and suffering, lifeless. The lifeless form of Dolores Umbridge was somehow stuck to the wall, her eyes wide in shock, mouth open as if in mid-scream, and she was shriveled up.

"That thing really sucked her dry, mate," Ron ran his hand through his hair, voice shaking. "It was disgusting."

"Can't imagine how many disgusting things you deal with every day, Harry," Ginny hugged her husband tightly.

"It's a pity she can't be thrown to Azkaban again," muttered the Boy-Who-Lived.

Hermione was still dazed from the sudden emotional and mental change. She decided to just cling to Fleur, who equally would not release her grip on the brunette. It did not register to Hermione's mind when Kingsley suddenly barged in, when the Healers arrived, when she was being carried out gently and passed by a hysterical and drenched in blood Lavender who was being restrained by George, and when she was gently laid on the hospital bed.

Hermione was still dazed when Fleur gently coaxed her to drink a potion, and her mind was still full of incomprehension of the day's events as she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The morning sun's rays tickled Hermione's eyes from her slumber. She grunted and turned around, away from the sun. The sharp pain in her ribs told her that it was a foolish thing to do.

"You look cute when you sleep but boy were you restless."

Hermione opened her eyes to Ginny's amused voice.

"Where am I? Why is there pain all over my body?" Hermione carefully adjusted herself on the comfortable bed. She then noticed a mess of blonde hair near her waist.

"She's been watching over you for the past week, never leaving your side except for showering," Ginny explained. The redhead rose from her chair and felt Hermione's forehead gently. "Your fever's gone, which is superb."

"Uh, where am I? What's going on, Gin?"

The redhead frowned, concerned. "Do you remember you were kidnapped, 'Mione?"

Hermione slowly nodded. Her recollections were hazy but she did remember being kidnapped and… Umbridge.

"Did you catch Umbridge?"

Ginny gave her a funny look. "How much do you remember, 'Mione?"

The brunette scrunched her face, thinking hard. "Uh… There was this purple blob thing. And Bellatrix. And silver door. Oh! Right, I do remember. She died, her blood was sucked dry, wasn't it?"

"Yep," the redhead nodded. "That's great, I don't have to explain too many things then. I can just pick up from when the Healers carried you away. But here, drink this potion first. It'll ease your pain."

Hermione took the proffered vial and downed it in one gulp. She grimaced. It was disgusting.

"I sometimes wonder how did Harry cope with his annual hospital stay," the brunette muttered, eliciting laughter from Ginny.

"Don't we all," chuckled the redhead. She sat back on her chair and leaned back. "Well, before I start, how do you feel, 'Mione?"

The brunette considered, checking herself. "I feel…great, actually," she said slowly. "While I feel pain all over, my mind is quiet. Tranquil. Peaceful. I feel like humming a tune. I feel cheerful. My goodness, Gin, I've never felt this good!"

"I am so happy for you, 'Mione," Ginny said earnestly, eyes brimming with tears. "Thinking about how much suffering you went through all these years just make me angry and sad. But now you're free. You deserve to be happy, 'Mione, and I hope happiness stays with you."

"We _all_ deserve happiness, Gin," smiled the brunette. She glanced down at the sleeping mess of hair beside her and caressed the blonde's hair gently so as to not wake her. Fleur Delacour, the reason for Hermione's happiness. "And I'm sorry if I am too abrupt but can you please tell me what happened? I'm dying of curiousity."

"Wow, your thirst for knowledge is back? This is amazing," breathed Ginny in wonder. "Alright. Well, as you know, it was quite a tough battle. For such a small place, it held a lot of rooms and equally as many bad guys. When Fleur and I stormed in, some guy was chanting some ancient stuff and you were screaming your head off. You were puking blood. We stunned him, sent him off flying, and I think we were too angry that he broke his neck. Not a big loss, honestly. Anyway, we were untying you and we were just going to get out of the room when several bad dudes stormed in. That's where you got your injuries and I am so sorry about it, 'Mione. I didn't hear them coming and we were caught off-guard. You crashed the wall but fortunately you didn't break your neck. But I'm still sorry."

"It's not your fault, Gin, you did rescue me," Hermione said gently, refusing for her best friend to take the blame.

"Still, I should've been more careful," the redhead sighed. "Anyway, we were fighting them and when there was only one left, you threw your shoe at him and the rest was history. For our side, at least. So Harry, Ron, and Luna were storming through the front door. We came in from the back. They fought many bad dudes as well and Harry knocked out Umbridge. I wish that man is more evil, cause he'd then smash her to a pulp. But no, he's a good man."

"That's the Harry we all know and love," smiled Hermione fondly.

"That, he is," Ginny agreed. "Since the upper level were quite big, they split up. Harry and Ron later on met up and came to us, which I assume you remember?"

Hermione nodded.

"According to Luna, she heard cries of the Wrackspurts from one of the rooms and went to investigate it. That odd behaviour of hers saved her from stumbling upon the soul killers."

Hermione shivered involuntarily. She did not want to think how things would turn up had Luna came across the soul killers.

"George came by not long after with the cavalry. Believe it or not, Malfoy's actually quite a capable guy. He Apparated us to you even though we had no idea where you were, by only seeing the place in Mildred's mind. He passed out right after that but when he regained consciousness, he, with Gabrielle, went to get George."

"Wait, why were George not with you guys?"

"Oh, we left him at his shop to be on standby just in case there are noticeable activities at the ministry," explained the redhead. "It's a long story but anyway when Malfoy and Gabrielle appeared, George marched down to Kingsley and within moments, got a squad of Aurors and both Malfoy and Gabrielle Apparated them to where you were. If you were guessing, yes, Malfoy passed out again."

"He's changed so much, hasn't he?"

"Yeah, even Ron's barely calling him a 'git' anymore," Ginny chuckled. "So George and the cavalry were rounding up the strays but they came after the soul killers sucked Umbridge dry. According to Mildred, because the contract has been fulfilled due to Umbridge being eaten, the soul killers won't appear again. That's a bloody fantastic news."

"Where is she now?"

"Mildred, you mean? I don't know," Ginny shrugged. "She disappeared after that, leaving no notes. Fleur said to let her be, something about she needing to maintain being hidden or something. I'm glad though. That woman gets under my skin for some reason."

"I know what you mean," Hermione agreed. "I don't like her too but at least she's not the evil guy."

"Oh wait, she did mention that to recover fully, you must start loving life again, whatever that means. But you have plenty of time, so don't fret yourself too much about that. Well, you can't start pondering about it until you've talked to Kingsley though."

"Why? What's happening?" Hermione frowned.

"Harry and the rest minus Fleur and I are busy trying to contain this whole thing at the ministry," Ginny explained. "The guy who kidnapped you apparently holds quite a high post at the ministry and he's Umbridge's ally. Kingsley's ordered a hush-hush investigation on him, and preliminary findings indicate that there's a growing faction who wants to topple down the ministry and install Harry as a figurehead. Taking you out of the picture will ensure his obedience cause let's face it, you're the brains of the Trio, 'Mione. Always was, always will."

"That doesn't mean Harry is an idiotic, mindless creature, Gin."

"He can be sometimes, actually," shrugged Ginny. "You won't believe the idiotic things he did. It's a miracle he's still alive, considering he's an Auror. But anyway, Kingsley wants to talk to you once you're conscious. He didn't specify what it'll be about, but I think we know what he has in mind."

Hermione groaned. Her life would always be tied to the ministry, one way or another.

"It won't be too bad, 'Mione," Ginny said sympathetically. "At least this time you have a certain gorgeous blonde who won't hesitate to tell off the Minister of Magic and kick him out of the house if she feels you're not ready for it."

Hermione did not like the glint in the redhead's eyes. "What did Fleur do, Gin?"

"Kingsley wanted to post Aurors here to notify him once you're awake and they couldn't deal with Fleur's wrath," snickered Ginny. "It was a beautiful sight. Harry did not say a word even though this is his house."

Hermione then just realised that she, indeed, was at Grimmauld Place.

"As soon as the Healers fixed you up, we brought you here with your potions," Ginny explained, seeing the confused look on Hermione's face. "You'll have more privacy here and there's Kreacher to help out. If we bring you to your place, the Healers can't come to check on you."

"I hope I'm not much of a bother, Gin."

"Shush, we're practically sisters," Ginny waved Hermione's apologies away. "On the bright side, Pansy granted me extra holidays to help look after you. She herself needs some time recuperating too."

"Oh, she helped as well?" Hermione was surprised.

"Yep, she did. She gave Mildred her energy to contain the soul killers. She's been sleeping a lot at her home since then and hasn't badger the players. That might sound like a great thing but she hired two extra temporary coaches to make up for her absence. My teammates had been writing me letters full of bitching."

"I can imagine," chuckled Hermione. She then remembered something. "If I'm not mistaken, I saw George restraining a very bloody Lavender. What happened?"

Ginny's face turned to somber. "Well, Neville got hurt when three men tried to escape. He lost a finger."

Hermione was horrified. Sweet, gentle Neville.

"He's taking it well and he's with Harry at the ministry," Ginny continued. "But Lavender was hysterical. She thought Neville was dying. They had been dating since before my wedding, and Lavender has been hoping that he'd pop the question soon. And can you believe my dear brother Ronald had been oblivious to that? He just realised they had been dating! I don't know what Luna sees in him."

"He's not a bad guy, Gin," Hermione chuckled. "He's a great person, but with a horrible temper."

Just then, Fleur shuffled and raised her head, giving Hermione a sleepy smile. She climbed onto the bed and enveloped the brunette in her arms.

"I love you," murmured the blonde.

"I love you too, sleepyhead," chuckled Hermione lovingly. She tilted her head and gave Fleur a peck on the lips. "Thanks for rescuing me."

"I can't live without you," Fleur admitted honestly. "I was so careless and I will never let you out of my sight again. I'm so relieved it's finally over and that horrible woman is dead."

Hermione nestled her head in the crook of Fleur's neck. She inhaled the blonde's familiar scent which she had missed so much.

"How did she die exactly though? I think I was in so much pain, I couldn't see what was happening," Hermione said.

"Is it alright if I tell you that story later on? I just want to feel you in my arms for now," Fleur murmured in the brunette's ear.

Hermione regarded the blonde. "Are you trying to protect me from some kind of horror story?"

"No, Hermione," Fleur shook her head. "You have every right to know the full story but right now I just want to feel you in my arms. I promise you I will tell you everything."

"Alright Fleur," Hermione conceded. "Let's take a nap for a bit. Then a story."

Both lovers soon fell into a deep slumber, not realising Ginny had slipped out of the room quietly. Not that they even noticed her presence.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Just in case anyone is wondering, the soul killers are inspired by a type of evil demon from the Batak folklore (people from Sumatera island, Indonesia). This demon is known as begu gajjang (begu - demon, gajjang - long). It is said that if you happen to look at the begu gajjang, it will grow taller and bigger and it will eat you up. While I tweak many things to create the soul killers in the story, they're loosely based on the begu gajjang.**_


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